
Class ^._ k._\IXk 



Book__^^_^\i^% 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



America s Great Men and Their Deeds 



American Heroes 
and Heroism 



By 

William A. Mowry, A.M., Ph.D. 
and Arthur May Mowry, A.M. 

Authors of ''First Steps in the History of our Country,'' ''A History of the 
United States, for Schools'' and ''American Inventions and Inventor s^ 




Silver, Burdett and Company 

New York Boston Chicago 



FOR THE STUDY OF HISTORY 

FIRST STEPS IN THE HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY. 

By William A. Mowry, Ph.D., and Arthur May Mowry, A.M. 
334 pages. 219 illustrations and maps. Introductory price, 60 cents. 

A unique elementary history of the United States, which groups the im- 
portant events in the nation's progress about the life-stories of forty leaders 
from Columbus to McKinley. 

FIRST STEPS IN THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 

By Arthur May Mowry, A.M. 324 pages. 259 illustrations and 
maps. Introductory price, 70 cents. 

An English history on the biographical plan that is most popular and most 
efifective with young people; well rounded and extremely interesting; scholarly, 
accurate and thoroughly instructive; ideal on the illustrative side. 

A HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, for Schools. 

By William A. Mowry, Ph.D., and Arthur May Mowry, A.M. 
468 pages. Numerous illustrations. Introductory price, $1.00. 

A valuable and workable book for upper grammar grades and high schools, 
strictly up-to-date, accurate in statement, clear and graphic in style, patriotic 
and unpartisan in spirit. 

AMERICAN INVENTIONS AND INVENTORS. 

By William A. Mowry, Ph.D., and Arthur May Mowry. A.M. 
298 pages. Fully illustrated. Introductory price, 65 cents. 

A fascinating resume of American improvements in heat, light, clothing, food, 
travel and letters, that shows most clearly the contrast between life in colonial 
and in modern times, and gives a new interest to every-day matters. 



'' TKE LlB'rl/jRY.CtF^.'i , 
Two Copies Rtcoived 

WiAY 6 1903 

•^ Copyright Emry 
CLA88 ^ XXo. No. 

r 2> cf 2> c^ 



C9PY B, 



Copyright, igoj. 
By Silver, Burdett and Company 



PREFACE. 

''Interest" is the first word in modern psychology. The child 
will learn faster and better when he is 'interested," when his mind is 
thoroughly alive and intensely active. Moreover, when he is kept in 
pleasurable interest his development is more normal and healthy. 

Nowhere is this principle more applicable or the results more man- 
ifest than in the reading-classes. Give the children dry and uninterest- 
ing historical facts or didactic rules of no interest to them and quite 
foreign to their undeveloped natures, and you have given them a soporific 
potion which will prove effectual in retarding their advancement. 

On the other hand, give them reading-lessons which relate, in simple 
language, adventures, narrow escapes, thrilling incidents in history and 
travel, where bold and high-toned courage is manifested, and three 
distinct and important things will be accomplished : first, their thorough 
interest in the reading exercise will be secured; secondly, a healthy love 
for history will be cultivated ; and thirdly, a strong moral sentiment will 
be stimulated. 

Perhaps no set of reading- lessons will do more in all three of these 
directions than such entertaining incidents in history as show real bravery 
and high-principled heroism. One advantage from a book of this sort 
is found in the ethical lessons conveyed by the incidents related. It is 
in reality a practical book of morals. The best moral teaching is by 
example, and the stories here told impart so clearly lessons in kindness, 
in honesty, in true courage, in real benevolence, that the words haec 
fabula docet are in no way needed. 

Children always and everywhere respect heroism and love tlie hejo. 
But it is important to distinguish between brute bravery and real moral 
courage. The incidents of heroism given in this book are arranged in 
a progressive or ascending order. Stories of bravery under circumstances 



6 ■ PREFACE. 

where one would naturally look for nothing but bravery — for example, 
in the life of the soldier or sailor — are given first. Then gradually ris- 
ing in the moral scale, the latter part of the book furnishes examples of 
heroes of the nobler type, with a higher moral tone, who display dignity 
of character, true moral force, and stately devotion to principle. 

The three advantages mentioned above may confidently be expected 
to result from the use of this book as a supplementary reader in school. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER 








Introductory and Explanatory 


I. 


John Champe 


II. 


Nathan Hale . 


III. 


Emily Geiger's Ride . 


IV. 


Buried in the Ash-heap 


V. 


Washington at Valley Forge 


VI. 


Richard Kirkland 


VII. 


Jerry O'Brien . 


VIII. 


Commodore Paul Jones 


IX. 


Jesse D. Elliott 


X. 


Lieutenant William B. Gushing 


XI. 


Richmond Pearson Hobson 


XII. 


Ensign Gherardi 




XIII. 


The Life-saving Service 




XIV. 


Keeper Chase 




XV. 


Brave Jack Eagan 




XVI. 


Sergeant Vaughan 




XVII. 


An Heroic Policeman 




XVIII. 


Runaway Locomotives 




XIX. 


John Coulter 




XX. 


Daniel Boone 




XXI. 


Andrew Ellicott 




XXII. 


Elisha Kent Kane 




XXIII. 


Two Brass Kettles . 





II 

17 
24 
29 

35 
40 
48 

52 

57 
66 
72 
78 
84 
86 
90 

94 
98 
104 
107 
III 
117 

125 
132 

139 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER 

XXIV. Lucy Goodell Blake 

XXV. Paul L. Fischer 

XXVI. Billy Mahew 

XXVII. George E. Waring, Jr 

XXVIII. The Siege of Pekin 

XXIX. Titus Coan, the Missionary to Hawaii 

XXX. Father Eells and Whitman College 

XXXI. Dorothea Dix 

XXXII. Clara Barton 

XXXIII. Bishop Christopher Sower 

XXXIV. Henry Laurens in the Tower of London 

XXXV. Farmer Stedman .... 

XXXVI. John Quincy Adams and the Gag Law 

XXXVII. Francis Parkman .... 



142 
147 
151 
154 
160 
168 
176 
181 
189 
196 
203 
210 
214 
219 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



EUicott Attacked by Seminole Indians Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Sergeant Champe's Escape 20 

King's Arms Tavern : General Arnold's Headquarters in New York . 22 

Hale Giving the Signal 26 

Nathan Hale 27 

General Nathaniel Greene 3^ 

Mrs. Steele and General Greene 33 

" ' Give up That Rebel, Joe Butler,' Said the Captain " . . . .38 

Washington and Lafayette at Valley Forge 42 

Washington's Headquarters at Valley Forge 45 

" He Knelt by the Nearest Sufferer" 49 

" A Broadside Was Fired " 55 

Paul Jones ............ 5^ 

T\\G. Bon Hom?ne Richard 2in(\ ihe Ser apis 62 

Commodore Perry at the Battle of Lake Erie 67 

Jesse D. Elliott .70 

" He Draws the Cord in His Right Hand " . . . . . .74 

Richmond Pearson Hobson 79 

The Merrimac Entering Santiago Harbor 81 

Ensign W. R. Gherardi 84 

" The Boat Drew up Alongside the Wreck" 88 

Nantucket Light 90 

Captain Eagan 95 

Sergeant Vaughan 99 

Vaughan's Gold Medal 103 

Albert N. Bates 105 

"When the Locomotive Approached Him He Leaped upon It " . . 108 

" A Party of Indians Made Their Appearance " 113 

Daniel Boone 118 

The Defense of Boonesboro 120 



lO ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

Andrew Ellicott . . ., 126 

Map of Ellicott's Route 128 

" Ellicott Spied a Vessel in the Distance " . . . . . .129 

Elisha Kent Kane 133 

The Advance 136 

"The Enemy Was Just Raising the Window-Sash " . . . . 140 

"Mrs. Blake and the Baby Proceeded on Horseback" .... 143 

" Down Through the Smoke the Elevator Rushes" 148 

" He Placed His Own Body against the Stones " 152 

Colonel George E. Waring, Jr. 155 

The Fortification Staff 162 

Ladies of the Legation Making Sand-bags 163 

The International Gun . 165 

Titus Coan 169 

Ancient Hawaiian Idols 171 

Lava Flow i73 

Father Eells . . .177 

Whitman Memorial Building 179 

A Visit to a Prison 184 

Clara Barton 190 

A Red Cross Nurse on the Battlefield .194 

Bishop Sower Giving Bread to the Poor 198 

The Second Arrest of Bishop Sower • . . . . . . 200 

Henry Laurens 204 

The Tower of London . 206 

"The Farmer Grasped' My Hand" 212 

John Ouincy Adams 215 

Francis Parkman . 220 



INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY. 

Before beginning the regular chapters of the book it is recommended 
that the class read and discuss the following imaginary exercise in order to 
fix in every mind the real significance of the words " hero " and " heroism." 

" To-day we begin a new reading-book. Charles, what is the title of 
the book?" 

" * American Heroes and Heroism.' " 

** What is meant by the word ' hero ' ? " 

*'« I think it means a brave man." 

" Well, then, why isn't the book called ' American Braves ' ? Might 
it not have been named ' American Braves and Bravery ' ? " 

'* We do not use the word 'braves' exactly in that sense. The 
Indians call their warriors ' braves.' " 

" Yes, that is true ; but can you tell me what the difference is between 
* brave ' and ' heroic ' ? " 

*' I do not believe I can tell you what the difference is." 

** Give me a definition of bravery." 

" I think it is courage displayed in daring acts." 

*' Very good. That is a good definition. Bravery is courage dis- 
played in daring acts. Now what is valor? James, will you answer that 
question?" 

*' I should think that it is about the same thing as bravery." 

** Where would you expect to find valor? " 

** I suppose that we usually tise the word when we talk about soldiers 
and battles." 

" Yes. You would say, ' He displayed great valor in the charge.' 
Will some one give us a definition of fortitude? " 

Sarah raised her hand. " The dictionary says that * Fortitude is 



12 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

passive courage, the habit of bearing up nobly under trials, dangers, and 
sufferings.' " 

*' Is the word ' courage ' used only in talking of soldiers and battles? " 

" I think not, sir," said Thomas. " I think you could use the word 
'courage' for anybody who did not show fear in danger." 

** That is right. Courage has a broad meaning. Courage may be 
shown by a soldier in battle, by the fireman when he is in great personal 
danger, by the sailor, and by any one who in the midst of danger is re- 
gardless of his own safety. Now let us return to the words ' hero ' and 
* heroism.' Have they a narrow or a broad meaning? " 

" I should think, sir," answered Louis, '* that those are about the 
broadest words there are." 

** Mary, will you look in Webster's International Dictionary under 
the word ' heroism ' and tell us what is said? " 

Mary read: '*' Heroism; the qualities characteristic of a hero, as 
courage, bravery, fortitude, unselfishness, etc. : the display of such qual- 
ities.' Then Webster quotes from Hare : * Heroism is the self-devotion 
of genius manifesting itself in action.' Synonyms : Heroism; courage; 
fortitude ; bravery ; valor ; intrepidity ; gallantry. Courage is generic, de- 
noting fearlessness or defiance of danger ; fortitude is passive courage, the 
habit of bearing up nobly under trials, dangers, and sufferings; bravery 
is courage displayed in daring acts ; valor is courage in battle with living 
opponents ; intrepidity is firm courage which shrinks not amid the most 
appalling dangers; gallantry is adventurous courage dashing into the 
thickest of the fight. Heroism may call into exercise all these modifica- 
tions of courage. It is a contempt of danger, not from ignorance or 
inconsiderate levity, but from a noble devotion to some great cause, and 
a just confidence of being able to meet danger in the spirit of such a 
cause.' " 

** These distinctions may seem a little difficult to you just now," 
said the teacher, ** but before you get through with this book I hope 
the definition will be better understood. Now, David, would you say 
that all heroism was of the same character, or do you think that there 
are different degrees of heroism? " 

" I don't see how a man can be more than heroic," David replied. 



INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY. 13 

*' Then you think that a soldier on the field of battle displays as high 
a degree of heroism as one who sacrifices himself and his life for the 
good of others when his duty and his business do not require that 
sacrifice? " 

'' Why, no, sir. I should say that there must be different degrees of 
heroism, but I never thought about it in that way before." 

" David, I should like to have you read this newspaper clipping, and 
then Katherine and James will please follow with these others." 

David stood and read : 

" THE HEROIC ENGINEER. 

*' Special dispatch. 

" Oskaloosa, la., Sept. 26, 1899. 

" Four men were killed and a number seriously wounded in a head- 
on collision on the Northwestern Railroad seven miles east of this city, 
at 11.30 o'clock this morning. 

" Passenger train 10 1 was given orders to pass freight train 106 at 
Gainford Siding, southwest of the station at Tioga. The passenger train 
was running at full speed, down grade, when the engineer saw the ap- 
proaching freight, which was running on time orders to pass the passenger 
train at Tioga. The train was running about fifty miles an hour. 

" As soon as the fireman and the engineer discovered the train ahead 
of them, the fireman, whose name was Gulp, yelled to the engineer, 
Allen, and asked him if he was going to jump. In an instant all the 
circumstances of the case flashed through the engineer's mind. If he 
jumped it would be hazardous, but he might save his own life. This, 
however, would leave the train at full speed to collide with the freight; 
then many lives would be lost. On the other hand, if he stuck to his 
post he might slow the train down and thereby save many, but it would 
be sure death for him. He answered at once, ' Jump? No, never. I'll 
stay by her if I die for it.' He reversed his engine, put on the brakes 
hard, and brought the train almost to a stop when the crash came. Allen 
was taken from the wreck dead, but his heroism had undoubtedly saved 
the lives of many of the passengers on his train." 



14 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

Katharine read as follows : 

" A HEROINE IN HUMBLE LIFE. 

*' Remarkable fortitude in suffering as well as an unusual degree of 
consideration for the welfare of others marked the conduct of Mrs. Julia 
Bender, who came near burning to death in her apartment in New York 
one night a few weeks ago. Mrs. Bender was alone at the time, and 
was engaged in making a birthday cake as a surprise for her little girl. 
On the cake she placed the appropriate number of candles. One of 
these she lighted to see how it would look. An unlucky jolt sent the 
candle against her dress, and in an instant she was ablaze from head to 
foot, but she did not scream. She tore her clothing off and then fainted. 
A tenant in a neighboring apartment heard the suffering woman groan, and 
went to her assistance. When asked why she had not shouted for help, 
Mrs. Bender said : ' I wanted to, but like a flash I thought of the sick 
woman across the hall. She is dying, and we have all been told to be 
very still. I remembered all that when I was on fire. I was suffering 
so that I knew if I opened my mouth at all I would shriek, so I gritted 
my teeth and tried to put the fire out myself.' " 

Then James read : 

'' REAL HEROES. 

'^ In an inconspicuous building in Cuba a group of patient physicians 
and a number of humble men and women, some Spanish, some American, 
have been writing a page of history. They are trying to discover the 
means by which yellow fever is transmitted, and they are voluntarily 
putting their lives at stake ' in the cause of humanity and the interest of 
science,' to test the various theories which have scientific support. 

*' One group lived for three weeks in a building purposely made as 
unsanitary as possible. Sunlight and fresh air were excluded. Each 
day the inmates wore clothes taken from the bodies of those who had 
died of the fever — clothes still foul with indescribable filth. Each 
night they slept in the beds and wrapped themselves in the bedclothes 
of yellow-fever victims. They were, however, protected from the bites 
of mosquitoes. 



INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY. 1 5 

'^ Another group lived in wholesome conditions, but exposed to the 
bites of mosquitoes which had previously fed upon sufferers from the 
fever, and still others submitted to the injection of blood from those 
who were already afflicted with the disease. 

'' Of these true martyrs in the cause of humanity, a large number 
endured the torments of the fever. Their names have not been heralded 
abroad. Even the physicians who made the experiments were accus- 
tomed to speak of them as ' Case Number One,' ' Case Number Two,' 
and so on. They gave themselves to the work with no thought of honor 
and no desire of reward. But day after day and night after night they 
endured with quiet courage the suspense which is often worse than cer- 
tainty, and when they were stricken suffered without complaint. Three 
of them have died. 

"The names of these heroes deserve to be known and honored. 
Their deed was truly a glorious one, and it has accomplished its purpose, 
for their self-sacrifice has established a basis of scientific knowledge 
which, there is every reason to hope, will be the means of saving thou- 
sands of lives in years to come." 

" We will not have time to discuss the bravery of these heroes to- 
day," said the teacher, " but to-morrow I want you to tell me which one 
of them showed the highest type of heroism and be able to give the 



reasons. 



t( ( 



To be a hero does not mean 

To march away 
At sounding of the trumpet call 

To war's array; 
It does not mean a lifeless form 

'Neath foeman's dart. 
To be a hero simply means 

To do your part. 
Perhaps above your head no flag 

May be unfurled ; 



i6 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM, 



Perhaps you may not gain the cheers 

Of a great world ; 
Just do your part each little day, 

Be brave and true ; 
A greater than a soldier's joy 

Will come to you ! ' " 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



I. 

JOHN CHAMPE. 



Early in the autumn of 1780, Benedict Arnold, then in 
command of West Point, turned traitor to the American cause. 
His treason was discovered by the arrest of Major Andr^ at 
Tarrytown, but Arnold escaped and found refuge with the 
British in New York. Major Andr^ was a noble officer of high 
character, and when he was arrested and put on trial as a spy his 
dignified bearing and fearless honesty won for him much sympa- 
thy from the American people, especially from the American 
army. As Arnold was the real culprit, Washington wished to 
capture him and save the life of Andre. 

Major Henry Lee, better known as " Light Horse Harry," 
father of General Robert E. Lee, was in command of a cavalry 
legion, at this time encamped nearTappan on the Hudson. Wash- 
ington, who had great confidence in Major Lee, sent for him. 
After showing him some papers which he had received, Wash- 
ington told Lee that he had summoned him in the hope that 
he could name some person in his command capable and willing 
to undertake a delicate and dangerous enterprise. *' Whoever 
comes forward upon this occasion," said Washington, " will lay 
me under great obligations personally, and in behalf of the United 
States I will reward him amply. No time is to be lost. He 



1 8 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

must proceed, if possible, this night. My object is to probe to 
the bottom what is contained in the papers you have just read, 
to seize Arnold, and, by getting him, to save Andre." 

He asked Lee if he could name to him the right person for 
such an undertaking. Lee answered that the sergeant-major of 
his cavalry was in all respects qualified for this adventure. In 
reply to further questions, Lee told Washington that the ser- 
geant's name was John Champe, that he was a native of Loudoun 
County, Virginia, was twenty-three or four years old, had been 
in the service four years, was full of bone and muscle, was grave, 
thoughtful, quiet, courageous, and persevering. Washington 
exclaimed, " He is the very man for this business. He must 
undertake it. Let him remember that going to the enemy by 
the direction and at the request of his superior officers is not 
desertion, although it might appear to be so." 

Major Lee returned to the camp, which he reached about 
eight o'clock at night. He sent for Champe immediately and 
unfolded to him the entire scheme. Champe listened with deep 
and excited attention. He modestly replied that he had great 
affection for the commander-in-chief, that he would willingly 
lay down his life for him, and that he was sensible of the honor 
conferred upon him by this request. He said that the plan had 
great charm for him, that even its partial success would lead 
to great good, and that he should not hesitate on account of any 
danger or difficulty, but he could not bear to desert and enlist 
with the enemy. It seemed to him almost like dishonor, there- 
fore he prayed to be excused. 

Lee admitted the force of his objection, but insisted that he 
was only carrying out the wishes of the commander-in-chief, and 
that could not be considered desertion. Lee with great skill 
brought forward many arguments to induce Sergeant Champe 
to undertake the perilous task, and finally he consented. But 
he especially requested that, whatever happened to him, his 



JOHN CHAMPE. I9 

reputation should be protected by Major Lee and General 
Washington. 

It was now nearly eleven o'clock. The sergeant returned to 
camp, took his cloak, valise, and orderly-book, drew his horse 
from the picket, mounted, and rode out of camp unobserved. 
The plan was that he should as rapidly as possible ride down to 
Paulus Hook (now Jersey City), cross the river to New York, 
and report himself at Clinton's headquarters as a deserter from 
the American army, enlist in the legion which Arnold was then 
forming, and devise a plan for the capture of the traitor. Within 
half an hour of his starting Captain Carnes, the ofificer of the 
day, reported to Major Lee that one of the dragoons had de- 
serted. Lee complained of fatigue, but the captain was persist- 
ent. Lee said he had not a single man in his whole legion who 
would desert. This did not convince Carnes, and he withdrew 
to discover who it was that was missing. He soon found that 
the deserter was the sergeant-major, and that he had gone off 
with his horse, baggage, arms, and orderly-book. Lee directed, 
of course, that a party be organized and start in pursuit, but he 
delayed as much as was possible without arousing suspicion, so 
as to give Champe all the time he could. 

Meanwhile Champe, knowing that his absence would soon 
be discovered and he would be followed, was pushing on with 
all speed. The pursuing party, under command of Cornet Mid- 
dleton, also rode as rapidly as possible, and a light shower aided 
them in keeping the horse's track. Thus the race continued all 
night. Early the next morning as Middleton came to the top 
of a hill, a little way north of the village of Bergen, he saw 
Champe about half a mile farther on ; but the sergeant had vig- 
ilance like an Indian, and he discovered the pursuing party at 
the same time. Middleton's men put their horses to the top of 
their speed, and dividing their force, took two different roads to 
cut Champe off at the bridge beyond. 



20 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



Champe wisely resolved to abandon his plan of going to 
Paulus Hook, and determined to strike for the river and ask pro- 
tection from two British galleys that he knew were lying a few 
miles west of Bergen. The chase was now hot. The pursuers 
reached the bridge, but Champe did not come. He had slipped 
through their fingers. Then Middleton's party started out in 
every direction, and some of the dragoons struck the trail of 
Champe's horse just as he reached the road leading to Bergen 







SERGEANT CHAMPE S ESCAPE. 



Point. Champe had prepared himself for the last effort ; the 
valise containing his clothes and orderly-book he had lashed to 
his shoulders, and he had thrown away the scabbard of his 
sword. Middleton was now within two or three hundred yards; 
but Champe, being just abreast of the galleys, threw himself off 
his horse, ran through the marsh to the river, plunged in and 
called for help. This was readily given. The British sent a 
boat to pick up Champe, who was carried on board the galley 
and later conveyed to Kew York with a report from the captain. 



JOHN CHAMPE. 21 

Middleton was sadly disappointed. H-e recovered the horse 
with his equipments, the cloak and the scabbard, but the ser- 
geant himself he could not take back to camp. About three 
o'clock in the afternoon Middleton and his men arrived in camp 
with the well-known horse, but without a rider. One can hardly 
imagine the anguish of Major Lee's heart when he saw the ser- 
geant's horse led riderless into camp. He reproached himself 
with the blood of his faithful sergeant, and was much relieved 
when he heard that Champe had not been killed but had escaped 
to the British. Lee's joy was now as great as his fear had been 
a moment before, but he could not show it. As soon as possible 
he informed Washington of what had happened, and then awaited 
news from Champe. 

When Champe reached New York Sir Henry Clinton, com- 
mander-in-chief of the British forces, questioned him sharply, 
inquired concerning Washington and his army, and interrogated 
him about Andre and his probable fate. Champe told him that 
much disaffection existed in the American army, and that if this 
spirit could be encouraged by the British, many desertions 
would surely take place. Clinton then advised him to join 
Arnold's legion and sent him with a letter to Arnold. Champe 
stood the trial bravely; won the confidence of both Clinton and 
Arnold; received the same rank which he had held with Major 
Lee, and was able every few days to communicate with Lee. 

Champe was quartered in the same house with Arnold. He 
soon observed that it was Arnold's custom every night about 
twelve o'clock, before retiring, to walk in the garden. Champe 
fixed upon a night when, with one assistant, he could silently 
take off two or three palings from the garden fence which he had 
previously loosened, step through, place a gag in Arnold's mouth, 
throw a cloak over him, and without delay and without noise 
hurry him away. Champe's plan was that, having once secured 
Arnold's person, he and his friend should place thernselves each 



22 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



under one shoulder of the prisoner and thus carry him through 
the most unfrequented alleys and streets to a boat on the Hud- 
son. If any person should meet them and make inquiries they 
would represent Arnold as a drunken soldier whom they were 
taking to the guard-house. When their prisoner was once in 
the boat, there would be no danger and no trouble in passing to 
the Jersey shore. There Lee, with a party of dragoons and 




KING S ARMS TAVERN. 
General Arnold's Headquarters in New York. 

extra horses, would meet them and rapidly convey Arnold to 
Washington's headquarters. 

The plan was a good one, and promised success. The ap- 
pointed night arrived. Lee and his dragoons with three extra 
horses left camp and about midnight reached Hoboken. They 
remained concealed in the woods waiting for the arrival of 
Champe and his prisoner; but hour after hour passed and no 
boat appeared. Morning came and the major and his soldiers 
quietly returned to camp. The delay could not be accounted 
for. For some unknown reason the plan had failed. Several 
days passed before anything was heard from Champe. Then 
Lee received an anonymous letter stating that just previous to the 



JOHN CHAMPE. " 23 

night fixed upon for the capture Arnold had removed his head- 
quarters to another part of the town where he could better carry 
on his plans for embarking the troops under his command for 
a voyage to Virginia. Thus it happened that John Champe, 
instead of carrying the traitor Arnold that night across the 
Hudson, back to the American camp to be hanged, was safely 
deposited on board one of the British transports, and when he 
next set foot on shore it was in his native state, Virginia. 

Some months elapsed before he could find an opportunity to 
desert from the British army and again join Major Lee. When 
his chance came, he traveled west a long distance in Virginia, 
passed over into North Carolina, and finally joined Lee near the 
Congaree River. It was a surprise to Lee's soldiers when 
Champe, the infamous deserter as they supposed, appeared 
among them ; and greater was their surprise when they saw the 
cordial reception with which Lee embraced him. But it did not 
take long to make his whole story known to the corps, and their 
hatred of the supposed deserter was soon changed to respect 
and high admiration for his daring. 

Champe soon received discharge papers from General Wash- 
ington. This course seemed to be necessary because, if by any 
means during the progress of the war Champe should fall into 
the hands of the British, he would surely die upon a gibbet. 

It is interesting to know that years afterward when General 
Washington was called by President Adams to the command of 
our army, — a war with France being expected, — Washington 
sent to Colonel Lee and inquired for Champe, being determined 
to bring him into the field at the head of a company of infantry. 
Lee learned, however, that the gallant soldier, soon after his 
discharge from the army, had removed to Kentucky and had 
there died. 



II. 

NATHAN HALE. 

Heroism in the time of the American Revolution, as always, 
was not confined to the leading men of the time, like Washing- 
ton, Patrick Henry, Dr. Franklin and Samuel Adams, but brave 
acts and heroic deeds were done everywhere — among the sol- 
diers in the army, the women in their homes, and even the 
children at their play. The story is told that at the very begin- 
ning of the Revolution, when General Gage was in command of 
the troops at Boston, the boys of this city were in the habit of 
making little hills of snow and sliding down from them to the 
pond on the Common. The English soldiers destroyed these 
sliding-places, but the boys in the morning built new ones and 
then went to school. Returning to their play after school they 
found their snow hills beaten down again. Since the officers 
would not listen to their complaints, they finally sent a commit- 
tee from their own number to General Gage. 

" We come, sir, to demand satisfaction." 

" What," said the general, " have your fathers been teaching 
you rebellion and sent you to exhibit it here? " 

" Nobody sent us, sir," answered one of the boys, his eyes 
flashing. " We have never injured or insulted your soldiers, but 
they have trodden down our snow hills and broken the ice on 
our skating ground. We complained, and they called us young 
rebels and told us to help ourselves if we could. We told the 
captain of this, and he laughed at us. Yesterday our snow 
hills were destroyed for the third time, and we will bear it no 
longer." 



NATHAN HALE. 2$ 

General Gage looked at the boys in silent adnniration, and 
then said to an officer at his side: 

" The very children here draw in a love of liberty with the 
air they breathe." 

Turning to the boys he replied, " You may go, my brave 
boys, and be assured that if my troops trouble you again they 
shall be punished." 

If the boys dared so much to save their play forts, it is not 
surprising that the men in the army would endure any hardship 
or undertake any enterprise to preserve their liberties or serve 
their commanders. 

Among the many in the American army who gladly sacri- 
ficed themselves for their native land was a young Connecti- 
cut officer, Nathan Hale. As a child he was so feeble 
that his family and friends did not suppose he would live 
to grow up, but he had developed into a youth almost six feet 
in height, with a broad chest and strong, firm muscles. At an 
early age he became interested in outdoor sports, and was famed 
for his athletic feats. Later he became very fond of books, 
fitted for college, and was graduated at Yale in 1773, when he 
was only eighteen years of age. " He was the idol of all his 
acquaintances" and " everybody loved him," said an old lady 
many years after his death; ''he was so sprightly, intelligent, 
and kind, and so handsome." 

Immediately after the battle of Lexington Nathan Hale en- 
listed in the Continental Army, was made a lieutenant, and soon 
afterward was promoted to a captaincy. Money was scarce, and 
it seemed to many as though the colonists had entered upon an 
undertaking which would end in disaster and failure. It was 
a time of great discouragement. Men hesitated to enter the 
army for any long period, and many of those already enlisted 
refused to reenlist when their term of service was over. Hale 
was so anxious to keep together his company that he offered to 



26 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



divide his wages among the soldiers " if they would tarry another 
month." 

Early in September, 1776, with a few picked men, Hale cap- 
tured at midnight a British supply vessel that was anchored in 
the East River, New York, under the protection of the guns of 
a British man-of-war. The stores of provisions from the prize 
were distributed among the hungry American soldiers. Soon 
after this Washington greatly desired to know the strength of 

the British army in New 
York and on Long Island, 
their position, and how 
best to attack them. 
Hale at once offered his 
services to act as spy and 
procure the needed in- 
formation. He well knew 
the consequences should 
he be captured; that a 
spy, if caught, would be 
immediately hanged — a 
death which every soldier 
considered the most dis- 
graceful. His friends urged him not to expose his life to the 
dangers of the undertaking just when he was entering upon a 
promising career. Hale replied that his only desire was to be 
useful to his country and the army, and that the duties of a spy 
were not dishonorable when they were necessary. " Every kind 
of service necessary to the public good," he said, " becomes 
honorable by being necessary." He felt that it was his duty 
to go, and no urging of his friends could turn him from his 
purpose. 

Disguised as a loyalist schoolmaster, he succeeded in visiting 
all the British camps, where he made observations, drawings, and 




HALE GIVING THE SIGNAL. 



NATHAN HALE. 



27 



memoranda of their fortifications. Finally he had gained the 
information which he desired and was about to return to the 
American side, when he was recognized by a relative who was a 
royalist and a refugee, and was betrayed. It had been arranged 
that a boat should meet Captain Hale at Huntington Bay. 
While he waited on the shore a boat approached and he, sup- 
posing it was the expected craft, gave the signal, only to find 
that it came from a British ship at anchor 
in the harbor. His surrender was de- 
manded and, escape being impossible, he 
was captured, taken before the commander. 
Sir William Howe, and subjected to a 
rough and rigid examination. In his 
shoes were found such evidences that he 
was a spy that Sir William, without the 
formality of a trial, ordered him to be 
hanged the next morning. 

His treatment by his captors was not 
creditable to the British army or. to the 
general in command. The night before 
his execution Nathan Hale wrote letters 
to his betrothed, his sisters, and his 
mother. These were destroyed before 
his eyes by the Provost-Marshal, Captain 
William Cunningham, because, as he 

afterward said, he did not wish " the rebels to know that they 
had a man that could die with such firmness." During his last 
hours he asked for a Bible, but was refused. He requested the 
attendance of a chaplain, and that was denied him. Before sun- 
rise the stanch patriot died for his country. Not a friend was 
present to give him courage; not a British soldier gave him a 
sympathetic look; but Nathan Hale needed neither friends nor 
sympathy. He considered that even death was a privilege when 




av:- 



.y'/^^.^-C^'t^. 



28 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

it came as a reward for duty bravely done. As he ascended the 
cart which was his scaffold, he said : 

" You are shedding the blood of the innocent; if I had ten 
thousand lives I would lay them down in defense of my injured, 
bleeding country. I only regret that I have but one life to give 
for my country." 

'' This is a fine death for a soldier! " said a British officer, 
sneeringly. 

" Sir," replied Hale, lifting his cap, *' there is no death 
which would not be rendered noble in such a glorious cause." 

" Then he calmly replaced his cap and the fatal cart moved 
on." Thus died one of the brilliant young patriots of that day. 
His bravery, his courage, his patriotism make him immortal in 
the annals of his country. 



III. 

EMILY GEIGER'S RIDE. 

For nearly three years during the Revolution, South Caro- 
lina was overrun by the British troops, and the people were 
subjected to great hardships and unusual indignities. Some were 
forced to promise not to take up arms; others were compelled 
to serve against their country. The British took possession 
of their houses and lived in luxury, while the Carolinians 
sought refuge in the swamp and had for food what could be 
obtained from forest and stream and occasional foraging expe- 
ditions. Yet, notwithstanding all these discouraging conditions, 
most of the people in the South remained true to the colonies 
and were willing to suffer any indignity or loss if thereby the 
British could the sooner be driven from the country. 

An interesting story is told by Dr. Ramsey of Colonel Tarle- 
ton's capture of a South Carolina patriot named James Brad- 
ley. Tarleton was notorious for his cruelty and cunning, and 
probably no officer in the British army was more hated than 
he. One day he came to Bradley's house and passed himself 
off as Colonel Washington of the American army. " Bradley 
made much of his guest, and without suspicion freely commu- 
nicated to him the plans and views of himself and other Caro- 
linians for cooperating with their countrymen against the British. 
When the interview and the hospitalities were ended, Tarle- 
ton requested Bradley to accompany him as a guide to a neigh- 
boring place. This service was cheerfully performed. On their 
arrival Tarleton's party appeared in full view and took charge of 
Bradley as a prisoner. 



30 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

" The host thus taken by order of his late guest was sent to 
Camden jail, and there confined in irons. He was frequently 
carted to the gallows to witness the execution of his countrymen 
as rebels, and was told to prepare for a similar fate, as his time 
was next. On such occasions, and when interrogated at courts- 
martial, he made no other reply than this: * I am ready and 
willing to die in the cause of my country; but remember, if I am 
hanged, I have many friends in General Marion's brigade, and 
my death will occasion a severe retaliation.* Either awed by 
his virtues or apprehensive of the consequences, his captors did 
not execute their threats. His life was spared, but he was kept 
in irons as long as the British had possession of the upper country. 
He bore the marks of these rugged instruments of confinement 
to the day of his death, and would occasionally show them to 
his young friends with a request that, if the good of their coun- 
try required the sacrifice, they would suffer imprisonment and 
death in its cause." 

Although the British received many hard blows from the 
army in the South, it was not until General Nathaniel Greene 
took command of the Southern troops that the enemy were 
forced to retire from their strong posts. One of these forts, 
Fort Mott, had been built around a large, new mansion owned 
by Mrs. Mott. She could not stay in her own house, and at 
the time of the attack by the American army she was living in a 
small cottage outside the walls. Colonel Lee, the ofificer in 
command, told her that the British garrison could be made to 
surrender if she would allow her fine house to be set on fire. 
Without hesitation she not only consented but supplied him with 
the means — an Indian bow and arrows. With these, burningsub- 
stances were shot over the house, which was soon in flames. Mrs. 
Mott was greatly pleased with the success of their experiment. 
It did not seem to occur to her that she had thus lost her prop- 
erty; she was simply glad to perform any service for her country. 



IV. 

BURIED IN THE ASH-HEAP. 
A Story of a Woman's Courage and Quick Wit. 

What queer things we find in history ! How often we are 
reminded that truth is stranger than fiction! The following 
singular incident, a full account of which was published many 
years ago, has been vouched for as being in all respects a true 
story of the American Revolution. The scene was laid in the 
little town of North Castle, Westchester County, New York. 

Just as the war broke out a young couple by the name of 
Fisher were married and established themselves in a new house, 
a real log cabin, in that wild and rugged country. But they 
were not long permitted to enjoy the comforts of their new 
home. Almost at the first note of war Fisher enlisted in the 
Continental Army, and he soon became one of the most trusted 
of Washington's scouts in that region which was called the neu- 
tral ground. Then came the battle of White Plains, near their 
home, and the young wife busied herself at Washington's camp 
caring for the sick and wounded soldiers. It was not long before 
bands of Hessians and Tories were constantly scouting over 
Westchester County, burning and pillaging, taking from the 
peaceful inhabitants whatever they could lay hands upon, and 
the neutral ground became almost like a battlefield itself. 

Fisher would manage occasionally to make a short visit to his 
wife, but soon this became a hazardous undertaking. At one 
time he was followed by British troops who were putting forth 
every effort to capture the bold scout. He had scarcely entered 
his house when they approached. This was just the time for 



36 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

boldness and quick wit on the part of his wife, who hastily re- 
moved the rough boards of the kitchen floor and concealed her 
husband beneath them. The soldiers surrounded the house, and 
the captain came up to the front door to demand his surrender. 
They had seen Fisher enter the house, and now felt sure of their 
prey. The young wife, trembling within, put on a bold face 
and offered to help them search the house. They lost no time 
in ransacking every nook and corner, but they did not find the 
scout. 

Some time after this he was really captured in his own house 
by a band of Tories, who demanded of him the gold which they 
supposed to be concealed somewhere about the place. After he 
had refused again and again to tell them anything, they put a 
rope about his neck, threw the halter over the limb of a tree in 
the yard, pulled up the rope until his feet cleared the ground, 
and leaving him hanging there, mounted their horses and rode 
away. All this was done before the eyes of his terrified wife. 
She immediately cut down the body, not having a doubt that 
he was dead. But what was her joy to discover a faint flut- 
tering of the heart ! By careful nursing he was soon restored, 
and from that day onward he was more than ever determined to 
rid his country of the lawless bands of Hessians and Tories. 

But here is the story of the ash-heap. Mrs. Fisher was ex- 
pecting a brief visit from her husband. These visits had become 
more and more dangerous, until the devoted wife dreaded to have 
him come home. Again and again she had left her work to 
look up and down the road for his approach, but he did not 
appear. It was nearly sunset, and soon darkness would cover all. 
She tried to make herself believe that he had given up coming, 
but still she kept up her watch. The sun had gone down when, 
once more leaving her work, she stepped out through the yard to 
the road to satisfy herself that no one was in sight. Down the 
road, just emerging from the woods, she saw a man running 



BURIED IN THE ASH-HEAP. 37 

swiftly toward her, but it was not her husband. He came with 
the greatest haste, and occasionally looked back, evidently expect- 
ing to be followed. Once he stumbled and fell, but quickly 
recovered himself and dashed onward at full speed. She soon 
discovered that it was one of her neighbors, a Mr. Butler, a stanch 
Whig and patriot. He was now straining every nerve, and as he 
rushed into the house he cried out to her, ' * Save me ! save me ! " 

" What is it? What is it? " asked the excited woman. 

" The Tories, the Tories!" replied Mr. Butler. " They are 
after me. They are close behind me. Hide me quick, Mrs. 
Fisher! " 

Hastily stepping to the door she saw, just emerging from the 
woods, a company of men who rapidly approached the house. 

" Hide me, hide me!" said Mr. Butler. " Hide me some- 
where, anywhere; don't let them get me." 

What could she do? Glancing through the kitchen and out 
at the open door she saw the hens fluttering in the ash-heap. 
Quick as thought her purpose was formed. She seized a brush 
made of goose-quills which was lying upon the table. As rap- 
idly as possible she cut out several quills, cut away the feathered 
part, blew out the pith, and joined four of these together so as 
to form a tube about eight inches long. She worked with great 
rapidity and then said: ''Come, be quick, we haven't a moment 
to spare!" Out through the kitchen she ran, seized a shovel, 
and with feverish haste dug a deep hole in the side of the ash- 
heap. 

Here," she said, handing Mr. Butler the quill tube, " keep 
this in your mouth. Jump in there at once and I will hide you. 
Be quick. Keep your eyes and mouth closed." 

The man leaped into the hole and Mrs, Fisher covered him 
with the ashes, being careful that the end of the tube was left 
free. Throwing the shovel to one side she entered the kitchen 
just as the Tories came upon the front piazza. She boldly 



38 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



advanced to meet them, and with sharp, quick tones asked, 

" Who are you? What do you want here? " 

" Give»up that rebel, Joe Butler," said the captain. " We 

saw him turn in here." 

" Think you I would give him up if he were here? " 

" You've got him somewhere. Now tell us where he is. We 




GIVE UP THAT REBEL, JOE BUTLER, SAID THE CAPTAIN. 

shall find him anyhow." Thus shouted the captain, flourishing 
a pistol as he spoke. 

" Keep your pistol to frighten children with," replied the 
brave woman. " You will not intimidate me. If you want to 
give up your chase and look for neighbor Butler here, you can 
do so. It is not the first time defenseless women in Westchester 
County haveTiad their homes invaded by miserable Tories." 



BURIED IN THE ASH-HEAP. 39 

" Come on, boys," called the leader. " She hid her rebel 
husband under the kitchen floor once, and perhaps Joe Butler is 
there now." Then the search began. The floor boards were 
torn up, but no rebel was found. Through the cellar they went, 
up the ladder to the loft. Beds were torn open, tables were 
overturned, the house was ransacked from one end to the other, 
but the missing man was not found. 

** Some of you go out to the barn. He may be out there," 
said the leader. " I will stand here and keep an eye on both 
places," he added, stepping upon the ash-heap. What a mo- 
ment of fear and anxiety was that for Mrs. Fisher! 

Would he discover the man's hiding-place? It was almost 
beneath his feet. At length the search was abandoned, and 
with many threats against her rebel husband and the cursed 
Whig, Joe Butler, the Tories departed. Mrs. Fisher waited for 
half an hour after they had gone, and then, taking her shovel, 
she dug out the man and he stood upright. But what a spec- 
tacle! Scarcely able to stand from exhaustion, covered from 
head to foot with ashes, and almost blind, it was long before he 
was restored to his usual self. But, with the aid of soap and 
water and such simple means as were in the house, he was able 
after dark to return to his own home. As he bade Mrs. Fisher 
good-by on the front piazza, he said : 

" I thoueht I was a dead man when I crawled into the ash- 

o 

heap. I could not help thinking of the words of the preacher, 
' Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.' " 

** Yes," replied Mrs. Fisher, solemnly, " but out of the ashes 
you came to life again. So may it be with our country." And 
she stood in the doorway long after he had passed out of sight 
thinking of all her experiences with the Tories and the Hessians, 
and wondering if her beloved country and her simple home 
would ever again see peace and quiet. 



WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 

The winter of 1777-7^ was by far the darkest period of the 
American Revolution. In September the patriot army was de- 
feated at the Brandywine, and the British forces occupied Phil- 
adelphia. In October came another defeat at Germantown. 
When winter arrived General Washington determined to put his 
army into quarters at some convenient spot near Philadelphia, 
where the British forces were to spend the winter. He selected 
the little village of Valley Forge and the hills adjacent, near the 
Schuylkill River, twenty-four miles northwest of Philadelphia. 
It was a picturesque spot, mostly covered with dense forest and 
well suited for defense. 

Separate camps were assigned to the different brigades and 
regiments, and the grounds were laid out. Washington gave 
careful orders for the construction of the various camps, and 
especially for the huts which were to shelter the soldiers from 
the storms and cold of the winter season. Trees had to be cut 
down and streets cleared and rendered passable. Houses were 
built, all of the same size, fourteen feet wide by sixteen feet 
long, with side walls six and a half feet high. The door was in 
the end next to the street, and a chimney of wood, lined with 
clay, was placed in the rear of the house with a large fireplace 
inside. These huts were built entirely of logs, the roof was 
made tight with slabs covered with dirt, while the sides and ends 
were plastered with clay on the inside between the logs. The 
door was made of split oak slabs. One of these houses furnished 
protection for twelve soldiers. 



WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 4I 

Washington's headquarters during the winter were in the 
house of Isaac Potts, but he would not occupy these quarters 
until his officers and men had completed their huts and were 
housed in them. All that time the commander-in-chief lived 
and ate and slept in his tent, without chimney or fire in it. 
Washington felt that while the main body of his troops were 
toiling and suffering from the pelting storms of winter he must 
share their hardships. It was not until he saw them in good 
quarters, his lines of defense drawn, fortifications and earthworks 
established and manned, and his extreme outposts indicated, 
that he left the comfortless tent for the stone house of Mr. Potts. 

The sufferings of the army during this long cold winter can 
in no way be realized. The men were destitute of proper cloth- 
ing and provisions. When obliged to move about, many pro- 
tected themselves from the cold by blankets and wrappings of 
every description. Four days after the camp at Valley Forge 
was established Washington wrote to the President of Con- 
gress that he had that day, December 23d, " two thousand eight 
hundred and ninety-eight men in camp unfit for duty because 
they are barefoot and otherwise naked, besides a number of men 
confined in hospitals for want of shoes, and others in farmers' 
houses on the same account." It was not uncommon for these 
poor men to keep themselves warm night after night by hud- 
dling round huge fires, sleeping by turns, reliefs being posted as 
regularly as for guard duty. " Numbers are still obliged to sit 
up all night by fires," wrote Washington, " instead of taking 
comfortable rest in a natural and common way." And he added. 
From the hardships and exposures they have undergone, par- 
ticularly for want of blankets, the number of men fit for duty has 
decreased two thousand in less than three weeks' time. . . . 
Three or four days of bad weather would prove our destruction." 

At this time the entire army of eleven thousand men had on 
hand but twenty-five barrels of flour and not a single animal of 



42 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



any kind to supply meat for the men. In a letter to the Pres- 
ident of Congress Washington said: " I have done all in my 
power, by remonstrating, by writing, by ordering the commis- 
sary on this head from time to time, but without any good effect 
or obtaining more than a present scanty relief;" So weak had 
the men become that " had the enemy crossed the Schuylkill this 




!■•'..,/! the painting; jy Alonzo Chappie. 
WASHINGTON AND LAFAYETTE AT VALLEY FORGE. 



morning, as I had reason to expect, the division which I ordered 
to be in readiness to march to meet them could not have moved. 
It is unnecessary for me to add more upon the subject." 

The orders to march were received by the men with great 
joy. Later General Huntington wrote: " I received an order to 
hold my brigade in readiness to march. Fighting will be far 
preferable to starving. My brigade are out of provisions, nor 



WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 



43 



can the commissary obtain any meat." General Varnum also 
wrote to Washington: "According to the saying of Solomon, 
hunger will break through a stone wall. It is, therefore, a very 
pleasing circumstance to the division under my command that 
there is a probability of their marching. Three days succes- 
sively we have been destitute of bread ; two days we have been 
entirely without meat. The men must be supplied or they 
cannot be commanded." 

Thus the winter dragged on at Valley Forge. The sufferings 
of the American forces must be laid to the incompetent Colo- 
nial Government. The members of Congress quarreled and 
found fault, and did nothing to relieve the starving army. Some 
even thought that the men were too comfortably quartered in 
their log huts. Meanwhile only a few miles away the British 
army was comfortably housed in Philadelphia, and the ofificers 
passed their time in a continual round of balls and merrymaking. 
The soldiers were neither cold nor hungry nor weary. 

About the first of February Washington wrote: " There is 
little less than a famine in camp. A part of the army has been 
a week without any kind of flesh, and the rest three or four days. 
Naked and starving as they are, we cannot enough admire the 
incomparable patience and fidelity of the soldiers, that they 
have not been before this time excited by their sufferings to a 
general mutiny. Nothing but the most active efforts everywhere 
can long avert so shocking a catastrophe." At this time there 
were three thousand nine hundred and eighty-nine men in camp 
unfit for duty for want of clothes. Of this number scarcely a 
man had a pair of shoes. Among those capable of doing duty 
very many were so poorly clad that exposure to the cold of the 
season must have killed them. Although the total army ex- 
ceeded seventeen thousand men, the effective rank and file 
amounted to only five thousand and twelve. 

It was fortunate for the American cause that the British were 



44 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

ignorant of the condition of our army. It is a wonder that 
Washington was able to keep his army together. Yet, in spite 
of sickness and suffering, the men never deserted and in reality 
seldom complained. In the midst of all these trials the soldiers 
remained firm and patriotic. Truer fame was never won by 
more heroic men, though they are nameless on our history's 
page. No greater victory ever blazoned the banners of any army 
than that which was achieved in the discipline of the patriots 
at Valley Forge. 

If the men suffered, how much more their commanding gen- 
eral. Mental suffering is keener than physical pain. The 
responsibility which Washington carried upon his shoulders 
throughout the war was great. This alone was almost enough 
to crush the man ; but when he, who was always tender-hearted, 
sympathetic, and intensely humane, was obliged day after day to 
witness the terrible sufferings of the thousands under his com- 
mand, how great beyond our power of estimation must have 
been his anguish ! 

While Washington was thus weighed down, Mr. Isaac Potts, 
in whose house the general had his headquarters, was strolling 
one day up the creek, when he heard a voice in the forest. 
Walking along quietly in the direction whence the voice came, 
he observed Washington's horse tied to a sapling. In a thicket 
near by he saw the commander-in-chief of the American army 
upon his knees in prayer, his cheeks wet with tears. Mr. Potts 
was greatly moved, and at once withdrew without being ob- 
served. He returned to the house, and upon meeting his wife 
burst into tears. When she inquired the cause, he told her what 
he had seen and heard, and added : " If there is anyone on this 
earth to whom the Lord will listen it is George Washington, and 
I feel a presentiment that under such a commander there can be 
no doubt of our eventually establishing our independence, and 
that God in his providence has willed it so." 



WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 



45 



One who has recently visited many of the commodious and 
well-kept farm-houses in the vicinity of Valley Forge asserts 
that the favorite engraving upon the walls of these houses is that 
well-known picture entitled "Washington in Prayer at Valley 



Forge. 



The sufferings of the army were not the only troubles that 




Washington's headquarters at valley forge. 

Washington had to endure during that terrible winter. Other 
generals were plotting and scheming to deprive him of his com- 
mand. Stories showing his unfitness for his position were cur- 
rent, and many hoped that he would be obliged to resign. Later 
events proved that the accusers and not the commanding gen- 
eral were incompetent. When spring came and Washington 
again took the field, he had an army that was well disciplined. 
In spite of the trials of the winter, the American troops had been 



46 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

molded and trained into an army that was almost invincible. 
From that time they won a long series of victories, until at last 
the British commander surrendered and the American colonies 
were free. 

William J. Buck, member of the Historical Society of Penn- 
sylvania, in his history of Montgomery County, tells the follow- 
ing incident: 

In the latter part of the summer of 1796, and after his 
second term as president had nearly expired and he was there- 
fore to retire to the shades of private life, Washington concluded 
to see Valley Forge once more, the scene of so many toils and 
struggles. For the information respecting this visit, I am," 
continues Mr. Buck, " indebted to my friend Henry Woodman; 
and he learned it from the lips of his father, who at that time 
was ploughing on his farm in the vicinity of the encampment. 

" It was in the afternoon that he observed an elderly man of 
dignified appearance, on horseback, dressed in a plain suit of 
black, accompanied by a colored servant, ride to a place in the 
road nearly opposite; then he alighted from his horse, came into 
the field and took him cordially by the hand. He told him he 
had called to make some inquiry concerning the owners and oc- 
cupants of the different places there, and also in regard to the 
system of farming practiced in that part of the country, the kinds 
of grain and vegetables raised, the time of sowing and planting, 
the best method of tilling the ground, and numerous other ques- 
tions relating to agriculture. He also made inquiries after cer- 
tain families in the neighborhood. As answers were given him 
he noted them down in a book. 

" Mr. Woodman informed him that he could not give as 
correct answers as he wished, for he had not been brought up to 
farming, and besides he had only moved into the vicinity since 
the war, though he had been in the army while it was in camp 
there. This gave a new turn to the conversation. The stranger 



WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 47 

informed him that he also had been in the army and at the camp, 
and that, as he expected to leave the city in a few months with 
a prospect of never returning, he had taken this journey to the 
scene of so much suffering and distress to see how far the inhab- 
itants had recovered from the effects of the war. On being told 
that his name was George Washington, Mr. Woodman told him 
that his appearance was so altered that he did not recognize 
him, or else he would have paid more respect to his late com- 
mander, now chief magistrate of the nation. He replied, to see 
the people happy and the desolate fields recovering from the dis- 
asters they had experienced, and to meet any of his old compan- 
ions now peaceably engaged in the most useful of employments, 
afforded him more satisfaction than all the homage that could be 
paid to his person or station. He then said that pressing en- 
gagements rendered it necessary for him to be in the city that 
night, and taking Mr. Woodman by the hand bade him an affec- 
tionate farewell." 



VI. 

RICHARD KIRKLAND. 
The Humane Soldier at Fredericksburg. 

The battle of Fredericksburg was fought on the 13th of 
December, 1862. General Burnside, commanding the Union 
forces, was obliged to send his men across the river under a heavy 
fire from " Marye's Hill." Having crossed, the army moved up 
toward the hill, but after desperate fighting was repulsed with 
crreat loss. No alternative remained but to recross the river. 
This movement left the wounded of the Union army on the 
field below the hill. There hundreds of soldiers were writhing 
in pain and suffering tortures from thirst. All night and all the 
next day the space was swept by artillery from both armies, and 
no one could venture to the relief of the sufferers. All the time 
agonizing cries for water went up from the field, and there was 
no response save the roar of the guns. 

Finally one brave soldier behind the Confederate ramparts 
felt that he could endure these piteous cries no longer. His 
compassion rose superior to his love of life. " Captain," said 
Richard Kirkland, " I cannot stand this. Those poor souls out 
there have been crying for water all night and all day, and it is 
more than I can bear. Let me go over there and give them a 
drink of water." The captain told him that it would be instant 
death for him to appear on the field, and he must stay where he 
was. Again the soldier begged his captain to let him carry water 
to those suffering men. He besought so earnestly that the offi- 
cer, admiring his devotion and noble courage, could not refuse 



RICHARD KIRKLAND. 



49 



his request. Dr. J. R. Miller, in his little book entitled " Mak- 
ing the Most of Life," tells the story as follows: 

Provided with a supply of water the brave soldier stepped 
over the wall and went on his Christ-like errand. From both 




sides wondering eyes looked on as he knelt by the nearest 
sufferer and, gently raising his head, held the cooling cup to his 
parched lips. At once the Union soldiers understood what the 
soldier in gray was doing for their own wounded comrades, and 
not a shot was fired. For an hour and a half he continued his 
work, giving drink to the thirsty, straightening cramped and 
4 



50 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

mangled limbs, pillowing men's heads on their knapsacks, and 
spreading blankets and army coats over them, tenderly as a 
mother would cover her child; and all the while, until this angel- 
ministry was finished, the fusillade of death was hushed. 

"Wemust admire theheroism that led this brave soldier in gray 
so utterly to forget himself for the sake of doing a deed of mercy 
to his enemies. There is more grandeur in five minutes of such 
self-renunciation than in a whole lifetime of self-interest and self- 
seeking. There is something Christly in it. How poor, paltry, 
and mean, alongside the record of such deeds, appear men's 
selfish strivings, self-interests' boldest venturings!" 

Another instance of a man's taking his life in his hand for 
humanity's sake is told by a Union officer in the Civil War, who 
was an eye-witness of the affair. The Union forces had sent out 
their line of pickets across an open plain from the main body of 
troops. While these picket men were on duty, the Confederates 
appeared in full force at the end of the plain. Battles, skir- 
mishes, reconnoissances, — one movement after another took place 
for several days. Meanwhile the pickets could not return 
across this plain, which was swept by the Confederate infantry. 
They had water from a brook, but they had nothing to eat. A 
Union soldier undertook to carry them food. Grasping a box 
of " hard-tack" and pressing it against his breast with his arms 
clasped round it, he rushed headlong across the open plain. 
What a target he made for the Confederate sharp-shooters! 
Volley after volley was fired at him. One ball went through his 
arm, another through his coat, a third made a gaping wound in 
his hat, a fourth struck the box of hard bread ; but on he sped. 
The men on picket duty sent up cheer after cheer, and he suc- 
ceeded in carrying his treasur-e through to the famished soldiers; 
then he fell exhausted from over-exertion and the loss of blood 
from his arm. 

Such deeds were not uncommon in connection with the two 



RICHARD KIRKLAND. 5 I 

armies during that terrible Civil War. But that spirit of com- 
passion for another, that forgetfulness of one's own safety in 
order to preserve the life of others or prevent their suffering, is 
not confined to any one people or to any one race. It is, per- 
haps, conspicuous in the Anglo-Saxon race. Sir Philip Sidney, 
an English gentleman, soldier and author of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, was mortally wounded in the battle of Zutphen. After he 
had received his wound he called for water to drink, and it was 
brought him; but just as he was about to put it to his lips a 
wounded soldier who was being carried by looked at the water 
bottle with such intense longing that Sir Philip said to him, 
" Take it. Take it. Thy necessity is greater than mine." 



VII. 
JERRY O'BRIEN. 

" The British have fired ! The British have fired ! Our min- 
ute-men have been shot down in cold blood by the British! " 

This cry came from a sloop as it neared the wharf of the little 
settlement of Machias, almost on the extreme eastern end of 
the Maine coast. It was the ninth day of May, in the year 1775. 
The messenger had been sent to tell the towns along the coast 
the news of the firing at Lexington and Concord of that shot 
" heard round the world." 

Hardly had he landed when he was surrounded by a crowd 
of men, women, and children, who asked questions so fast that 
he could scarcely answer. In time, however, he was able to tell 
them of the firing at Lexington Green, because the " rebels " 
would not ** disperse"; of the fight at Concord Bridge; of the 
retreat of the British; and of the terrible penalty they paid as 
the minute-men fired upon them from behind stone walls on 
the way back to Boston. He was continually interrupted by 
exclamations of "Oh, the tyrant!" — "Is that the boasted 
kindness of the mother country?" — and " What will the cruel 
wretches do next?" All was excitement, and for the time all 
hearts burned with an intense hatred for England and for Eng- 
lish soldiers. 

The energetic farmers and hardy seamen were stirred to even 
greater anger by the presence in the harbor of the British 
schooner Margaretta, This armed vessel was busily engaged in 
collecting the best lumber of the Maine woods for the use of the 
British navy. No tree that was straight and of the right height 



JERRY O BRIEN. 53 

and thickness for masts could be cut by the colonists. All such 
belonged to the government. 

Some of the townsmen, feeling that by their expedition to 
Lexington the British had begun war on the colonies, proposed 
to strike back at once. The next day was Sunday, and Captain 
Moore of the Margaretta was accustomed to come ashore and 
attend church. A plan was formed to seize him during the serv- 
ice, but he, hearing an unusual noise at the church doors, 
jumped from a window and fled in safety to his vessel. Weigh- 
ing anchor, he ran the schooner outside, where apparently it was 
safe. 

Monday morning, Joseph Wheaton met Dennis O'Brien on 
the wharf and said to him : *' Can't we capture the old tub some- 
how? Let's take that lumber sloop at the wharf there, get a 
crowd of fellows, and go after it." 

" All right," replied Dennis, turning to two other young men 
who had joined them. The four men started on a run, and in a 
few minutes had possession of the sloop, which was named the 
Unity. The cheers that arose at their success drew a crowd to 
the wharf, and Wheaton explained his plan to the new-comers. 

In the crowd was the leader of the village " boys," Jerry 
O'Brien. He shouted enthusiastically, " We can do it, my 
boys. We can do it; but let's wait until we can send word and 
bring in everybody." 

Among the volunteers who came from far and near was 
Joseph Weston of Jonesboro. He left home in such haste that 
he forgot his powder horn. He consoled himself with the 
thought that he could borrow, but he found that when all the 
ammunition was put together there were but three charges for 
each man. He was scolding himself for his carelessness when 
two girls were seen coming from the woods. One was his wife, 
who had been married but five months and was only sixteen 
years old, and the other was his sister, a year younger. 



54 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

Mrs. Weston had noticed the powder-horn soon after her 
husband left home. She at once put in a bag all the powder in 
the house, and the two girls started afoot for Machias. There 
were no roads and no bridges, but they found their way by 
means of the blazed trees along the trail. The powder weighed 
forty pounds, and was carried first by one and then by the 
other of the frail girls. This brave act was as surely a proof 
of patriotism as was that of the husband and brother as he 
started in the Unity to attack the Margaretta. 

The sloop carried thirty-five men, carefully picked, because 
nearly the whole region had volunteered. These thirty-five men 
had twenty guns, including an old " wall-piece," so-called be- 
cause it was too heavy to be fired without a support. Fifteen 
pitchforks and twelve axes completed the equipment of their 
amateur war-vessel, which was setting out to attack a British 
schooner armed with twenty-four cannon, two wall-pieces, forty 
muskets, twenty pistols, besides cutlasses, boarding-axes, hand- 
grenades, and an abundance of powder and shot. 

Captain Moore saw the Unity sailing out of the harbor, and 
again hoisted anchor and ran away. He seemed to be afraid to 
await the attack, and he was apparently no better sailor than 
fighter. Scarcely had he started on his flight when the boom of 
his vessel broke. Bringing his schooner up to a merchant vessel 
anchored near by, Captain Moore took her boom by force and 
adjusted it in the place of his broken one. This took so long 
that the £/;^//j/ had come within firing distance. " Fire! " com- 
manded Captain Moore. A broadside flashed out, and on board 
the Unity one man fell. Jerry O'Brien was ready for the con- 
test, and the fight was on. 

The wall-piece had been placed in charge of a man named 
Knight. He was a typical Maine backwoodsman, a hunter and 
Indian fighter. When O'Brien said, " Let her go. Knight," he 
took a long, deliberate aim and fired. This first shot from an 



< 



JERRY O BRIEN. 



55 



American vessel, at the beginning of the Revolutionary War, 
showed that an American uses his brain as well as his hand. The 
helmsman of the Margaretta threw up his hands and fell dead ; 
and the shot so frightened the crew that all fled from the deck. 
The schooner could make no headway with no hand to guide it; 
and the wheel swung back and forth as the waves beat upon 
the rudder. 

The Unity now bore swiftly down upon the Margaretta, the 



f !l»''^' ''" 



,,il.!lii,f|» 




A BROADSIDE WAS FIRED. 



" hay-makers " and " wood-choppers " standing ready to spring 
the moment the crash came. Armed with the pitchforks and 
axes which they so well knew how to use, the Machias men 
leaped over the rail. Captain Moore was no coward, after all, 
tor he fought bravely, throwing his hand-grenades with telling 
effect. A musket-shot ended his life, and the crew surrendered. 
It had been a desperate contest. There were forty sailors 
aboard the schooner, and thirty-five men on the sloop. Of 
these seventy-five men twenty, more than a quarter, were killed 
or wounded. The British vessel was well protected ; it had can- 
non and ammunition in plenty; it had more men than its antag- 



56 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

onist. But the sturdy Maine pioneers, accustomed to endure 
cold and hunger, and to fight with Indians and wild beasts, 
knew no fear. Fighting, as they realized, for home and liberty, 
they were more than a match for even trained seamen. 

This was the beginning of Captain Jerry O'Brien's career. 
Having captured other vessels and brought them into port, he 
received a commission from Massachusetts and set out again to 
prey upon the enemy. In all his career, however, he did not 
succeed in eclipsing his first naval exploit, when with a crew of 
" hay-makers " he captured one of the vessels of His Majesty's 
navy. 

In 1900 a torpedo boat for the United States navy was 
launched from Nixon's ship-yard at Elizabeth, N. J., and in mem- 
ory of these brave brothers of Machias was named the "O'Brien." 
It was christened by Miss Myra Lincoln O'Brien, a great grand- 
daughter of the youngest brother, Joseph. The historic sword 
worn by Lieutenant Moore of the British sloop-of-war Margar- 
etta was exhibited at the launching of the ship, which is the first 
naval vessel of the United States to bear an Irish name. 



VIII. 
COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 

The American navy has had a series of eminent commanders, 
distinguished aUke for their bravery and their success. The 
first commodore of our navy was Esek Hopkins of Rhode Island. 
Following him, among the notable naval leaders were Paul Jones, 
Decatur, Hull, Porter, Perry, Farragut, and Dewey. No one 
of these was a bolder, braver captain than Paul Jones. 

Commodore Jones was a native of Scotland, and in his youth 
borethe name of his father, John Paul. He early showed a strong 
passion for the sea, and became a sailor when twelve years old. 
Before he was twenty he had twice served as mate of a vessel, 
and he was captain of a brig at twenty-three. At the age of 
twenty-six he came to North Carolina to settle the estate of a 
brother. There he m.ade the acquaintance of a family by the 
name of Jones. Willie Jones and his brother Allen were per- 
sons of great prominence and influence in that section. These 
two brothers and their families were very friendly to the young 
sailor, and he remained with them until the beginning of the 
American Revolution. So attached to these friends did he be- 
come that he assumed their name and was ever after known as 
John Paul Jones, or, more popularly, Paul Jones. He served in 
the American navy in command of a number of vessels, and 
after the war he was for a time in the Russian service with the 
rank of Rear-Admiral, but he reserved the right to return to the 
United States at any time when his services should be needed. 
Indeed, he was always an American. " He described himself 
with touching simplicity, not as Commodore, Chevalier or 



58 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



Admiral, titles he had loved, but in greater words as* John Paul 
Jones, a citizen of the United States.' " He died in Paris at 
the early age of forty-five. 

Paul Jones was " A man remarkable for audacity of con- 
ception, boldness in planning, hardihood in carrying out, and 




PAUL JONES. 

downright courage in the supreme moment." He was naturally 
passionate, ambitious, self-willed, impetuous; but he had suffered 
keen disappointment, by which he had learned to control his 
feelings. As is seen in the story of his bravery which is now to 
be told, he was considerate, tactful, forbearing, persuasive, and 
able to hold himself under strong restraint. 



COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 59 

In August, 1779, he left the coast of France in command of a 
full-rigged ship, renamed the Bon Homme RicJiard^ accompanied 
by the Alliance, the Pallas, and a small brig called the Ven- 
geance, He sailed across the mouth of the English Channel, 
round Ireland and Scotland, and along the eastern coast of Eng- 
land to Flamborough Head, a bold promontory bearing a light; 
house and jutting far out into the North Sea. 

About noon, on the twenty-third of September, Jones sud- 
denly discovered, coming around the headland, a large ship fol- 
lowed by a second and a third ; soon six were in sight, then 
twenty, and finally forty sail were counted. They were flying 
the British flag. Paul Jones had been looking for a large fleet 
of merchant vessels from the Baltic, and here was the fleet 
directly before him. It was convoyed by two war-vessels, one 
of which proved to be the frigate Serapis, in command of Cap- 
tain Richard Pearson. As Paul Jones bore down upon the 
leading ship, the merchantmen, one after another, tacked and 
finally headed for the harbor of Scarborough, hoping to find 
safety under the guns of the castle. The commander had already 
been informed that Paul Jones was off the coast, and he was on 
the watch for him. 

The Bon Homme Richard vjdiS an old, worn-out hulk, scarcely 
seaworthy, with condemned guns, and manned by a motley 
crew, some Americans, some English, and some French. Jones 
had a total of forty guns, capable of throwing less than three 
hundred pounds of shot in a broadside. After the first fire some 
of the guns had to be abandoned, so that his broadside would be 
less than two hundred pounds of shot. 

The Serapis was a new vessel with a total of fifty guns, one- 
half of which would throw a broadside of over three hundred 
pounds of shot. She was manned by three hundred trained and 
disciplined English seamen of the best quality. Her captain 
was a splendid officer who had had a distinguished career. 



6o AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

But the American commander had such unexampled audac- 
ity, such resolution, such cool-headed determination, that so 
long as he lived he could not be conquered. One of his biog- 
raphers* says: " They might knock mast after mast out of the 
Richard; they might silence gun after gun of her batteries; man 
after man might be killed upon her decks; they might smash 
the ship to pieces and sink her beneath his feet; but there was 
no power on earth which could compel him to strike her flag." 

Now for the battle. The great guns were cast loose, the 
magazines were opened, the powder" monkeys " were clustered 
about the hatches, cutlasses and pistols were distributed, board- 
ing-pikes were ready at hand. The officers discarded their hats; 
swords were buckled on ; everything was in readiness. Jones 
himself, a little man of slender proportions, paced steadily to and 
fro on the deck of the Richard ^.s she drew near the Scrapis. It 
was seven o'clock in the evening. The harvest moon hung over 
the eastern sky. A settled silence spread over the American 
ship. Many a man's thoughts went back to his home, and many 
sailors at that moment were in imagination looking upon their 
wives, children, mothers, friends, in the distant land. The ships 
drew nearer, nearer. Suddenly from the rail of the English ship 
was heard the cry, " What ship is that? " 

" I do not understand you," replied Jones. 

" What ship is that? Answer at once, or I fire." 

The answer came quickly, but it was not in words. Paul 
Jones had spoken to his own ship a sharp word of command, and 
even as he spoke a line of fire from his broadside lighted up the 
darkness, followed by the roar of his cannon. Then the Scrapis 
belched forth her iron rain, and broadside answered broadside. 
The heavy bass of the huge guns was punctuated by the sharp, 
high-pitched rattle of the small arms. They were now at close 

* Cyrus Townsend Brady, from whose " Life of Commodore Paul Jones" 
many of the details of this narrative have been taken. 



COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 6l 

quarters, and the firing was incessant for nearly an hour. The 
Richard struck the Scrapis on the port quarter and the two ships 
hung together. Their position was such that the guns of neither 
could bear upon the other. Pearson thought it was about time 
for the Richard to surrender. He sprang upon the rail and 
called out, " Have you struck? " 

Then Paul Jones returned that heroic answer which has ever 
since been the watchword of American sailors: " I have not yet 
begun to fight." 

" Have you struck? " Indeed, Paul Jones " struck "? No, 
he had not struck and he never would strike. The fighting was 
only about to begin. His ship was already shattered beyond 
repair, his best guns were exploded and useless, his crew was 
decimated, but he, as captain, had " not yet begun to fight." 

Then Jones put his helm hard a-starboard and swung off to 
port, hoping to get into position where he could rake the Scrapis. 
The batteries re-opened. They were at close range. Jones 
again swung the Richard diVQcXly across the path of the Scrapis 
and poured a raking fire upon the British frigate from his star- 
board batteries. He then with his own hand lashed the two 
vessels together. The sailing-master, Mr. Stacy, provoked at 
some delay, broke into the natural oath of a sailor. " Don't 
swear, Mr. Stacy," said Paul Jones," in another moment we may 
all be in the presence of our Maker, — but let us do our duty." 

A spare anchor on the British vessel caught in the chains of 
\.\\Q Richard s^nd the two ships were firmly bound together, the 
bow of one by the stern of the other. Now the battle was 
waged with the utmost fury. The Richard wdiS leaking rapidly, 
and the prisoners were put to the pumps. The ship's carpenter, 
thinking that all was lost, fumbled about in the darkness for the 
halliards to pull down the flag, and called out to Paul Jones that 
all was lost, the ship was sinking, and that he must surrender. 
Jones, unable to stop the outcry of the terrified man, knocked 



COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 63 

him down with the butt of his pistol. Just then Pearson hailed 
again, asking if the Richard had struck. Jones gave a most 
determined negative. Pearson attempted to board the Richard. 
Jones and a few men, pike in hand, resisted the attack and it 
was abandoned. 

The Richard was a wreck. Her batteries were silenced, 
she was on fire in two or three places. The surgeon, driven 
from below by the increase of water, rushed on deck and 
advised the commodore to surrender. " What!" cried Paul 
Jones, smiling — " what. Doctor? Would you have me strike 
to a drop of water? Help me to get this gun over." The 
fight went on. Both crews were doing their best. They fought 
with tremendous bravery, but the issue lay between Jones and 
Pearson. One must surrender. Jones wouldn't; Pearson had 
to. Pearson had beaten his antagonist half a dozen times, but 
Jones did not seem to realize it. Paul Jones was so unconscious 
that he had been beaten that, although his vessel was sinking and 
he was surrounded by dead and dying, he would not surrender. 
Captain Pearson lost his nerve. He walked aft and pulled down 
his flag. 

"They have struck their flag," cried Jones. " Cease firing. " 

But from beneath the decks came the roar of the guns of the 
Serapis. She had resumed her fire, but Jones immediately 
ordered a boarding party to leap over upon the Serapis. Led 
by the brave Richard Dale, a party of men bounded down upon 
her deck and walked aft to where Captain Pearson was standing 
with bowed head, leaning against the rail, flag in hand. 

" Have you struck?" cried Dale. 

** Yes, sir," was the reply. 

" I have orders to send you aboard the ship alongside," said 
the American. 

** Very good, sir," answered Pearson. Just at this moment 
a lieutenant interrupted them. 



64 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

" Has the enemy struck to you, sir? " he asked of Pearson. 

" No, sir; on the contrary he has struck to us," replied Dale. 
But the English lieutenant refused to believe him. 

" A few more broadsides and they are ours," said the lieu- 
tenant. " Their prisoners have escaped. They are sinking." 

" The ship has struck, sir," said Dale. " You are my pris= 
oner." 

But the English ofificer would not believe it. He turned to 
Captain Pearson and said, " Sir, have you struck?" 

" Yes, sir," said the captain. 

" I have nothing more to say, sir," said the officer. "If 
you will permit me to go below I will silence the firing of the 
lower deck guns." 

" No, sir," said Dale; " you will accompany your captain on 
board our ship at once, by order of Commodore Jones. Pass 
the word to cease firing. Your ship has surrendered." 

Dale feared that the lieutenant would go below and resume 
the conflict. Then Dale, Captain Pearson and the lieutenant 
climbed over to the deck of the Richard where they found Paul 
Jones, hatless, his face begrimed with smoke and his uniform 
torn and bespattered with blood from a slight wound in his 
forehead. As the English officers stepped upon the deck, Jones 
met them and bowed gracefully. 

" You are ?" began Pearson. 

" Commodore John Paul Jones, of the American sqOadron, 
and the ship Bon Homme RicJiard — at your service, gentlemen; 
and you are ? " 

" Captain Richard Pearson, of His Britannic Majesty's ship 
SerapiSy'' was the reply, and he handed his sword to Paul Jones. 

Jones replied : " Sir, you have fought like a hero and I make 
no doubt that your sovereign will reward you in the most ample 
manner." Americans have always appreciated the nobility of 
this gracious answer from Paul Jones. 



COMMODORE PAUL JONES. * 65 

The Richard was in a fearful condition. She literally had 
been torn to pieces. Her rotten timbers could not withstand 
the searching shot of the Serapis. Jones himself wrote: " With 
respect to the situation of the Bon Homme Richard, the rudder 
was cut entirely off, the stern frame and the transoms were almost 
entirely cut away ; the timbers, by the lower deck especially, from 
the mainmast to the stern, being greatly decayed with age, were 
mangled beyond my power of description, and a person must 
have been an eyewitness to form a just idea of the tremendous 
scene of carnage, wreck and ruin that everywhere appeared. 
Humanity cannot but recoil from the prospect of such finished 
horror and lament that war should produce such fatal conse- 
quences." 

The vessel was settling lower and lower in the water, and 
finally it was determined to abandon her. The prisoners and 
the wounded were taken off, and although working with all 
haste, they did not succeed in transferring all the wounded to 
the Serapis before daybreak of September 25th, the second day 
after the battle opened. All the wounded and all the prisoners 
were finally taken off the vessel, and at about ten o'clock in the 
forenoon she went down bow foremost. Jones watched his ves- 
sel until she disappeared below the waters, and then, the masts 
having been carried away, he put up a jury rig to the Serapis 
and the squadron sailed away from the coast of England to 
Dunkirk, France. 

Thackeray, the great English writer, told an American friend 
that the account of the amazing capture of the Serapis by Paul 
Jones was one of the most extraordinary stories in naval annals. 



IX. 

JESSE D. ELLIOTT. 

The War of 1812 with Great Britain was the second contest 
waged by the United States against the mother country, and it 
was the last occasion when the two nations were in open hostil- 
ity with each other. Of course, neighbors cannot always agree. 
The United States and Great Britain, or rather Canada, which 
is subject to Great Britain, have frequently found occasion to 
differ. Sometimes the quarrel has been over the fish near New- 
foundland, or the seal near Alaska. Again, the necessity of pay- 
ing duties when goods crossed the boundary line has made 
trouble. More frequently this line itself has caused the ill- 
feeling. 

First came the northeastern boundary question, concerning 
the northern line of Maine, and then the northwestern boundary 
dispute over the possession of Oregon. To-day the countries 
disagree about the Alaskan boundary near the great gold fields. 

One by one these disputes have been settled by agreement. 
One trouble after another has been overcome by the making of 
one or another treaty. At no time has either nation cared to 
say to the other, " Agree to our demands or we will declare 
war." Peace and good will have been the rule, and war be- 
tween these two great nations has not occurred since the peace 
of 1814. May it never be known again ! 

It is not strange that there have been these disputes about 
the boundary. Look at the map and see how Maine is appar- 
ently cut out of Canada; note that Ontario seems to be pushing 
its nose into the United States. In the early history, however, 



68 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

little attention was paid to the boundary, for the land on both 
sides of the line was covered with forests and far removed from 
the centers of settlement. By and by immigrants began to settle 
on the southern shores of Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, and then 
both countries came to realize the importance of the Great 
Lakes. So in the War of 1812 each side found it necessary to 
put forth its best efforts to take and hold the lakes. 

Many heroic actions took place on these inland seas. It was 
on Lake Erie that Commodore Perry gained his famous victory 
and made happy an entire nation by his message, " We have 
met the enemy and they are ours." It was on Lake Champlain 
that Commodore MacDonough won a victory that put him in 
the first rank of naval commanders. There were other deeds 
that have not been frequently recounted; some that were as 
heroic as those described in all histories. Among such heroes 
whose names are seldom spoken, few deserve more credit than 
Jesse D. Elliott. 

Commodore Chauncey, who had been put in charge of the 
naval operations on the lakes, made his headquarters at Sackett's 
Harbor, at the eastern end of Lake Ontario. There he began 
preparations to buy and build a fleet in order to take possession 
of the lake. Lake Erie must be held by another fleet, and 
Lieutenant Elliott was sent to Buffalo to take charge of the 
work there. He decided to build and equip his vessels in a little 
harbor at Black Rock, a village two miles from Buffalo at the 
head of Niagara River. Directly across the river was the strong 
British fortification — Fort Erie. 

When war was declared in 1812 the United States was build- 
ing a vessel at Detroit. Almost immediately that town was 
captured by the British and the nearly finished boat fell into 
their hands. They named it the Detroit and sent it into Lake 
Erie, together with the trading vessel Caledonia, which they 
had purchased. 



JESSE D. ELLIOTT. 6g 

These two brigs arrived at Fort Erie a few days after Lieu- 
tenant Elliott reached Buffalo. He saw them as they came to 
anchor before the fort and at once decided that it would be 
better to capture two vessels than to buy or build two. For 
Elliott to decide was to do. He immediately began to prepare 
boats and to collect men and ammunition. At midnight the 
start was made. Two large boats set out from Black Rock with 
about one hundred and twenty men. The crews were armed 
only with muskets and were planning to attack two vessels well 
fitted with cannon. The Detroit had been built for war and had 
ten guns and sixty men on board. The Caledonia was manned 
by fewer men and had but two guns; but the crew were brave 
pioneers, alert and ready for any kind of contest. The vessels 
were also protected by the strong batteries of Fort Erie. 

The two American boats were barely away from land when 
the crews found that something more than fighting was in store 
for them. The boats were so heavily loaded that they could 
not go over the bar at the mouth of the little creek from which 
they started. The men were obliged to jump into the water and 
push the boats over the sand. The bar crossed, their labor was 
not over. The water was rushing from the lake with fearful 
rapidity, and for three hours they struggled against the current, 
rowing far up the stream so that they might approach the brigs 
from above. Then silently, without voice of command or splash 
of oars, the current bore them down towards their prizes. 

The boat commanded by Lieutenant Elliott reached the 
Detroit just as her bells were striking six — that is, at three 
o'clock. The first that the Detroit's crew knew of the attack 
was the sound of a pistol shot. A band of fifty men then poured 
over the rail and the sleepy British sailors were easily overcome. 
The Detroit again belonged to the United States. When the 
batteries of Fort Erie began to boom, Elliott defiantly replied 
with his captured cannon until the ammunition gave out. Mean- 



^o 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



while the men were busy hoisting sails, raising anchors, and get- 
ting the brig toward the American shore. 

Elliott soon found that he had a more difficult foe to contend 
with than Fort Erie. Though every sail was set and every 
effort made, the Detroit could not stem the current. She drifted 
down the river and ran ashore on Squaw Island, a short dis- 
tance below Black Rock. Forty-six prisoners were taken ashore 

and a large part of the cargo. 
As the brig was still within 
range of the British guns, 
Elliott was compelled to set 
her on fire to prevent her 
falling into the hands of the 
British again. He had not 
succeeded as he had hoped, 
but she could no longer turn 
her guns against an American 
vessel. 

Meanwhile the other boat, 
in command of Sailing-master 
Watts, reached the Caledonia 
just after Elliott had captured 
the Detroit. The sturdy Can- 
adian trappers were more alert 
than the British sailors and 
met the invaders with a brisk fire of musketry. The American 
crew outnumbered the Canadians and within ten minutes the 
brig was in the hands of the attacking party. The Caledonia 
had better fortune than the Detroit, and was soon safe in Black 
Rock harbor. She was found to be loaded with two hundred 
thousand dollars* worth of furs, the sale of which provided 
extra money for the equipment of other vessels for the fleet. 
Lieutenant Elliott's night attack was bold but judicious. As 




JESSE D. ELLIOTT. 



JESSE D. ELLIOTT. 7I 

is often the case in time of war, surprise proved to be half the 
victory. He obtained by his exploit the first vessel of the fleet 
which Commodore Perry afterward used with such great effect. 
He deprived the enemy of the only two vessels which they then 
had for the contest on Lake Erie; he seized a valuable cargo and 
took more than fifty prisoners, besides recapturing fourteen 
Americans who had surrendered at Detroit. 

It was not a great fight. It has been called ** a trifling 
skirmish." Yet it did great damage to the British power 
on the lakes, and "as an example of dashing bravery the 
feat thrilled the whole American nation." Congress showed its 
appreciation of the heroic act by presenting Lieutenant Elliott 
with a sword and by promoting him to a higher position in the 
United States navy. 



X. 

LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. 

It is a dark night in late October of 1863. Summer is over 
and the air is cool and frosty. A small open launch is quietly 
steaming from Albemarle Sound into Roanoke River. On 
board are fifteen brave volunteers, led by Lieutenant William 
B. Gushing. They have embarked upon a desperate undertak- 
ing; death or captivity stares them in the face. 

In the Sound are anchored several wooden vessels belonging 
to the United States navy. These have been placed there to 
blockade the river, so that no Confederate vessels shall enter 
or leave. Eight miles up the river, at a wharf in the town of 
Plymouth, lies the Confederate ram, the Albemarle. This iron- 
clad vessel has already caused great injury to the Federal fleet 
and it is expected that it will soon make another attack. Lieu- 
tenant Cushing has volunteered to attempt the destruction of 
the ram. He knows the dangers ahead of him and so do his 
crew. The enemy are expecting an attack and have encamped sol- 
diers here and there on each bank of the narrow river. In the 
center of the stream guards have been placed on the wreck of a 
gunboat which the Albemarle had previously sunk. 

Only by a surprise can Cushing hope to destroy the ram. 
Can the launch pass all these pickets? Will it not be seen or 
heard long before it reaches the town? None but a daring com- 
mander would think it possible to reach the ram without being 
noticed. Yet the apparently impossible sometimes happens. 
Quietly the launch moves along. The soldiers on the bank see 
nothing and hear nothing. Silently the launch passes the 



LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. 73 

wreck. It is not hailed. Perhaps the pickets are asleep. The 
town is reached and all is quiet. 

There looms the great shadow by the wharf — the iron-clad 
ram. *' Perhaps," thinks Gushing, " I can capture it. They 
are ten times my men, but a surprise is everything." A watcher 
on the AlbejHarle, however, is alert; he sees the black speck on 
the water. " Boat, ahoy! Who goes there?" rings out on the 
frosty air. No reply, but the speck moves nearer. Another 
hail, and then a shot awakens crew and town. 

Undaunted, the launch dashes toward the dark side of the 
Albemarle, until she strikes a circle of logs placed there to pro- 
tect the ram. She backs off a little and then, coming at full 
speed, slips over the logs close to the iron fortress. The guns 
boom out, but they cannot be lowered sufificiently to strike the 
launch. The crew of the ram are therefore directed to use their 
muskets. 

Now comes the part of the whole venture that requires the 
greatest courage, the coolest nerves. With shot whizzing by 
him and through his clothes. Gushing stands in the bow of the 
launch. At his command a long spar is swung under the edge 
of the ram. With a cord in each hand he waits for the best 
moment; then he draws the cord in his right hand and releases 
a torpedo at the end of the spar. A bullet strikes his left hand, 
but he pulls the cord which explodes the torpedo. The slightest 
unsteadiness of hand or wrist would put the whole apparatus 
out of order; but Gushing's nerves are like iron; even the bullet 
wound does not affect them. 

The torpedo is scarcely ten feet from the heroic lieutenant, 
and a heavy mass of water nearly throws him from his feet. 
Neither he nor his men can tell what effect the explosion has 
had. The firing from the ram continues; a call to surrender 
comes. The launch is now useless, shut up within the logs. 
Another call, but Gushing, shouting " Boys, save yourselves," 



74 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



throws aside sword, revolver, shoes and coat, and jumps into 
the icy river. Three of the crew follow him, but the other 
eleven men deem it wisest to surrender. 

What had been accomplished by the heroic act? The car- 
penter who was sent by the captain to examine the damage 




HE DRAWS THE CORD IN HIS RIGHT HAND. 

done to the ram reported that there was ** a hole in her bottom 
big enough to drive a wagon in." The Albemarle was destroyed, 
though neither her crew nor the brave prisoners realized it. The 
ram was in such shallow water that it sank but little, and to all 
outside appearance was as good as before the explosion. But 
there was the hole and to attempt to repair it was evidently use- 
less. Cushing's skill had exploded the torpedo at exactly the 



LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. 75 

right time and place. The captain of the ram said: ** A more 
gallant thing was not done during the war." 

What became of Gushing and the three men who preferred 
the river and probable death to captivity? One of them suc- 
ceeded in swimming directly across the river and lay concealed 
in a swamp for thirty-six hours. Then he was picked up by one 
of the vessels of the Federal fleet as it approached the now de- 
fenseless town. A second man, unable to reach the shore, lost 
his life in the waters. The river was already dotted with row- 
boats and his dying cry attracted the attention of one of them. 
This put Gushing, who was near by, in great danger, but he 
swam away, far down the river. 

At last Gushing felt it safe to attempt a landing. Just at 
that moment he heard a groan from someone following him, and 
in spite of his own wearied condition he turned back to aid his 
comrade. It proved to be the fourth of those who had made 
the attempt to escape. The man's strength was gone, however, 
and though Gushing helped him all he was able, he could go no 
farther and sank to the bottom. 

Gushing, again alone and with his strength almost spent, 
turned to the shore on the town side of the river. Just as he 
thought that his last moment had come his feet struck the mud 
on the bank. He took one step and fell exhausted, half in the 
mud and half in the water, where he stayed, nearly frozen, until 
daylight. 

When day appeared he discovered that he was in almost as 
dangerous a spot as could have been found. He was scarcely 
out of the town, not much over a hundred feet from one of the 
forts, on whose walls a sentinel was pacing back and forth. The 
only way of escape lay through a swamp, full of perils to one 
unacquainted with its bogs. 

As soon as the warm sunshine had taken the chill and some 
of the stiffness out of his limbs, Gushing renewed his attempt to 



l6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

escape. When the sentinel's back was towards him he made a 
dash across an open space between the river bank and the rushes 
of the swamp. He had gone but half the distance when the 
sentinel turned ; Gushing dropped on his back just where he wa>s. 
While he was lying there, four soldiers came along a path, talking 
earnestly, and passed so near that one nearly stepped on his arm. 
It was strange that they did not see him, but he was so covered 
with mud that probably he had the appearance of the earth 
itself. 

He dared not rise again, but he must reach the swamp. Flat 
on his back, he pressed his heels and elbows into the soft earth 
and moved his body along inch by inch. He reached the shel- 
ter of the rushes at last, but found that his hardships were not 
over. The swamp was a tangle of briers and thorns that tore 
his clothes and cut him like knives. The ground was so soft that 
he sank into mud at every step. Sometimes he was compelled to 
throw his body at full length and move himself along by his 
arms alone. Thus he struggled, where no path had ever been, 
for five weary hours, until he reached an old cornfield and came 
into full view of some soldiers at work on the river. Keeping 
low in the furrow behind the cornstalks. Gushing succeeded in 
passing within fifty feet of the soldiers without being seen. 
Then he entered the woods, where the ground was harder and 
where for the time being he was safe. 

All this while Gushing had a great desire to know what he 
had accomplished. It would have been reckless to return and 
see; in flight lay his only safety. But in the woods he came 
upon a negro whom he persuaded to go to Plymouth and bring 
him the news. Rested and greatly encouraged by the good 
report which the man gave him, Gushing again plunged into the 
wooded swamp and traveled on, with no guide but the sun. 

Early in the afternoon he reached the bank of a stream. 
Peeping through the underbrush he saw on the opposite bank 



LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. 77 

a party of soldiers, who immediately went back into the 
woods. Tied to a tree in the stream was a flat-bottomed boat. 
Here was Cushing's opportunity. He swam across, loosed the 
boat, and pushed it quietly down the stream. Fortunately he 
was not seen, and before the loss of the boat was discovered he 
had made a bend and was out of sight. Then he drew himself 
into the boat and paddled away as fast as one oar could carry 
him. Chilled, bruised, cut, tired, as he was, he paddled on 
and on. It grew dark, but he dared not rest. He reached the 
Sound, which was quite calm ; ordinarily such a small boat would 
have been swamped by high waves. He guided his boat by a 
star, in the direction where he thought the fleet must lie. Hav- 
ing paddled for ten hours he reached the picket ship, which he 
hailed, and then fell exhausted in the bottom of the boat. 

Cushing's return and the news that the expedition had been 
successful caused great rejoicing. An immediate attack upon 
Plymouth was decided upon, and two days later the town and 
the river were again in the possession of the Union fleet. 

Cushing was sent to Hampton Roads, Virginia, to make his 
report to Admiral Porter, who thanked him in the warmest lan- 
guage. The Naval Department presented its congratulations to 
him, and Congress voted him the thanks of the country and 
raised him to the rank of Lieutenant Commander, though he 
was but twenty-one years of age. Everywhere praises of the 
gallant act were sounded, and the name of Cushing was on the 
lips of everyone. In the words of Commodore Soley, " It is 
safe to say that the naval history of the world affords no other 
example of such marvelous coolness and professional skill as 
that shown by Cushing in the destruction of the Albemarle^ 



XL 
RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. 

Our recent war with Spain developed many instances of sur- 
prising bravery and heroism. Every one knows the story of 
Admiral Dewey's utter destruction of the Spanish naval squad- 
ron in Manila Bay, without the loss of a single man and with 
only a few slightly wounded. Equally well known is the won- 
derful account of how the entire Spanish fleet at Santiago, Cuba, 
was destroyed. All the vessels of the enemy were burned or 
sunk; four hundred Spaniards were killed or drowned, while on 
the American side but one man was killed and only three 
were wounded. 

It was in May, 1898, that the Spanish fleet under command 
of Admiral Cervera slipped into the Bay of Santiago. This fleet 
of seven vessels, four of them being large iron warships of mod- 
ern build, was the pride of Spain. The channel leading from the 
bay was narrow, and Admiral Sampson determined to obstruct 
this channel so that no ship could pass out. He had with him 
a young naval constructor, a native of Alabama, a graduate of the 
Annapolis Naval School, named Richmond Pearson Hobson. 
He was a quiet young man, cool, collected, and brave as the 
bravest. During the run of the flag-ship from Key West to 
Santiago Admiral Sampson made his desire known to Hobson, 
and together they planned this blockade, though the minute de- 
tails were perfected by Lieutenant Hobson. 

It was proposed to take the Merriinac, a collier, to the mouth 
of the harbor under cover of night, turn it crosswise where the 
channel was not more than one hundred feet wide, and there 



RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. 



79 



sink it. In different parts of the hull were placed explosives, 
connected with the deck by electric wires, which would blow up 
the vessel when it was in position. It was thought that the crew 
could not possibly succeed in escaping from the fire of the Span- 
iards; but when Hobson called for volunteers hundreds re- 
sponded with cheerful courage, although each one of them knew 
there was little 
chance of his re- 
turning alive. Six 
men were selected 
for the desperate 
undertaking. An- 
other, who was 
at work on the 
Merrimac, refused 
to leave her, and so 
made the seventh 
man of the crew. 

On the morn- 
ing of June 3d, 
about 2.30, the 
Merrimac ran 
along the western 
side of the harbor 
entrance and 

moved up opposite Morro beyond the batteries. When she 
reached the desired position the helm was put hard to starboard, 
and a few moments later the electric knob was touched and 
the seven charges of powder were fired. The collier had been 
discovered, and the cannonade from Morro Castle and the bat- 
teries along the shore had completely riddled her. The rudder 
had been partly shot away, and the crew were unable to swing 
her to the exact position intended; but she was sunk in the 




RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. 



8o AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

channel with the weight of her two thousand tons of coal hold- 
ing her firmly in place. 

But what became of the brave Hobson and his equally brave 
comrades? According to the plan which Hobson had so care 
fully prepared, the crew were to leap into the water as the vessel 
sank, and swim to the row-boat in tow. If the boat was dam- 
aged, they might resort to the life-raft on deck. But the Span- 
ish fire was so intense and sweeping that it would have been 
madness at that close range for the crew to expose themselves for 
an instant. Meantime, until the ship should sink, Hobson and 
his men lay flat on deck, hoping that some Spanish boat might 
steam near enough for them to call out and surrender them- 
selves as prisoners of war. 

Every gun of the fort and the batteries and the Mauser rifles 
of the Spanish soldiers poured fire upon tliem; the decks were 
again and again torn and splintered by plunging shells; the few 
minutes seemed to lengthen into hours. The vessel rose and 
then suddenly fell back and went down beneath the waves. The 
men were now in a whirlpool of rushing waters. They came to 
the surface and gathered round the life-raft which was floating 
above the sunken craft. Every man was there. That was the 
greatest marvel of the whole enterprise. By this time the Span- 
ish boats were in sight, and they dared not show themselves; 
so they clung to the raft with only their faces above water, and 
waited for daylight. 

The darkest hour or the most terrific night will have an end. 
As daylight was approaching a steam launch bore down near 
them and was soon within easy hearing distance. Hobson 
shouted, *' We wish to surrender as prisoners of war. Have you 
any officer to receive our surrender? " At once the men on the 
launch aimed their rifles, but instantly came the command not 
to fire. Then Hobson discovered an elderly man raising his 
hand. It was no one else than Cervera himself, that " grand 




THE MERRIM.lC 



Ekl\t. bANTIAGO HARBOR. 



82 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

old Spanish Admiral Cervera," who, as Admiral Sampson re- 
cently said, " holding Hobson's life in his hand spared it for 
pride at the brave deed of his young foe." The Americans 
were picked up and taken to the Spanish flagship. Later in 
the day Admiral Cervera sent an officer under flag of truce to 
Admiral Sampson to tell him that Hobson and his men were 
safe. " Daring like theirs," he said, " makes the bitterest 
enemy proud that his fellow-men can be such heroes." So 
great was Admiral Cervera's admiration for the daring of his 
enemy that during Lieutenant Hobson's critical illness, in 1900, 
he sent from Spain a telegram of sympathy, saying that he prayed 
daily for his recovery. 

As prisoners of war, Hobson and his men were treated with 
great consideration by their Spanish captors, and in due time 
were exchanged and sent to their friends. Their wonderful 
exploit had been blazoned broadcast by newspapers all over 
Europe and America, and when the heroes returned home they 
were received with great honors. Lieutenant Hobson, in par- 
ticular, was feted and praised in all parts of the country. 
Wherever he went, people wanted to hear from his lips the story 
of ** the sinking of the Merrimac/' Admiral William T. 
Sampson has spoken thus of him : 

" The Spanish officers in charge of the prison forgot their 
hatred of Americans through their admiration for the individual, 
and as for our own nation, when the tale was told they went 
wild with praise of one of the bravest deeds ever known. Lieu- 
tenant Hobson, when, after his release from prison, he returned 
home, received an ovation which would have turned the head of 
an older man. Can any one of the vast crowds that pressed 
about him then remember that he ever gave one sign of over- 
weening pride ? He spoke extemporaneously, and under the 
influence of extraordinary excitement, to multitudes in different 
places. Did any one ever hear him speak of himself or his own 



RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. 83 

deeds ? A man always of amazing coolness and self-control, 
marked through all these years that we have known him for sub- 
ordinating self to duty, no matter how bitter the cost. . . . He 
is, believe me, as strong as in his cadet days, when, a mere boy, 
he deliberately gave up for the sake of stern principle all the 
joys of popularity. He is as brave to-day, I know, while com- 
bating the weakness and torment of fever, and he will be as 
brave to-morrow, whatever life dares him to do or to suffer, as 
he was in the hour when he offered his life for his country." 



XII. 



ENSIGN GHERARDI'S BRAVERY IN THE HARBOR OF SAN 

JUAN. 

On the 8th of August, 1899, a terrific hurricane passed over 
the West India Islands. The path of the cyclone included the 
Lesser Antilles, Porto Rico, San Domingo, and the eastern end 

of Cuba. Its greatest severity 
was on the island of Porto 
Rico. The storm raged with 
full fury from eight o'clock in 
the morning through the 
greater part of the day. Build- 
ings were blown down all over 
the island, crops and cattle 
were destroyed, the rivers 
overflowed their banks, and 
whole towns were flooded. It 
was estimated that two thou- 
sand persons lost their lives, 
and that three-quarters of the 
population of the island were 
rendered homeless and des- 
titute. The total loss in 
tobacco, coffee, and other 
products of the island was 
estimated at not less than seventy-five million dollars. 

The War Department at Washington immediately made 
arrangements for sending relief, and called on the governors of 




ENSIGN W. R. GHERARDI. 



ENSIGN GHERARDl'S BRAVERY. 85 

the several States for voluntary aid. After the storm had sub- 
sided, Captain Snow, commanding the United States naval sta- 
tion at San Juan, reported to the department at Washington the 
noble courage of Ensign Gherardi, who was conspicuous for his 
bold daring and great skill in saving lives in the harbor of San 
Juan. 

The schooner Concepcion, loaded with one hundred and fifty 
emigrants from San Domingo, was caught by the storm in the 
harbor of San Juan, and, through the terrific force of the wind, 
was dragging her anchor. It was evident that she would soon 
sink, or go to pieces on the shore. The passengers were obliged 
to jump overboard and take the chance of reaching the shore by 
swimming. 

Ensign Gherardi and J. J. Jim.inez, a civil engineer, ran along 
the beach to the point nearest the schooner, plunged into the 
water, and dragged the unfortunates one by one ashore. Again 
and again they were carried under the waves, but by almost 
superhuman exertions they succeeded, strange to say, in saving 
all. Six persons only would not leave the schooner, and they 
were drowned, as the vessel went to pieces. 

Meantime the steamer Vasco was in great distress, and after 
several unsuccessful efforts, these two men, with others, formed 
a life line, headed by Gherardi. They were baffled again and 
again, but by heroic efforts succeeded in getting hold of a line 
which had been thrown out from the steamer. They fastened 
the line to a tree on the shore, and the entire crew climbed along 
this line from the stranded vessel and were saved. 

Throughout this whole enterprise Gherardi was the leader, 
and, altogether, more than one hundred and fifty lives were saved. 
Ensign Gherardi suffered severely from exposure and hardship, 
and had to be sent to the naval hospital at New York to recruit. 
Twice before had he been honorably mentioned for conspicuous 
bravery. 



XIII. 
THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. 

No men endure more hardships, or are exposed to greater 
perils, than "they who go down to the sea in ships." The 
skill and ingenuity of the present day have made the modern 
vessels marvels of speed, strength, durability, and beauty, but 
even these drift helplessly in the face of a furious storm, and the 
safety of men and ships often depends on the mercy of wind and 
waves. Those who live in seaport towns have become accus- 
tomed to the frequent disappearance of boats and men, but few 
become so hardened that they do not remember the sailor when 
the wind rages around the chimney tops, and the waves roar 
upon the shore. 

For the help of the mariners, the United States Government 
has built many lighthouses, and has also placed life-saving sta- 
tions at frequent intervals along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts 
and on the Great Lakes. Each station has a tower, where a 
continual watch is kept in stormy weather, and it is provided 
with the most approved appliances for the saving of life. A 
keeper resides in the station the year through, and during nine 
months of the year he has under him a crew of hardy seamen, 
picked from the bravest of the sailors along the coast. These 
men are always on the watch for signals of distress, so that they 
may be ready at a moment's notice to launch the lifeboat and go 
to the aid of a ship in danger. 

No matter how severe the storm, the patrol keeps up his 
lonely beat along the shore. The fiercer the storm the more 
is the careful watch needed, even though the wind rages so that 



THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. 8/ 

the journey must be made on hands and knees, and though the 
waves break over him so that he must hold to the ground to 
keep himself from being washed into the sea. The faithful life- 
saver leaves undone no duty, and braves every danger if by his 
sacrifices he may save one life. 

The storm of November, 1898, probably tested the endurance 
and the courage of the life-savers along the North Atlantic coast 
more than any other storm in the history of the service. Hun- 
dreds of vessels went down or were cast upon the rocks and 
shoals off the shore, and scores of lives were lost. The story of 
two days of this storm well illustrates the self-forgetfulness of 
the heroes of the life-saving service. 

The first call for assistance from one of the stations just 
south of Boston harbor came about eight o'clock in the morning, 
from the schooner Henry R. Tilton, which had gone on the 
rocks. Immediately the lifeboats were manned and went to 
the rescue of the crew. The snow fell fast, and it seemed im- 
possible for even a lifeboat to breast such a sea in such a wind, 
but after several hours of great exertion the boat returned to 
the station with every man saved. 

Hardly had the apparatus been put up before the lookout 
reported a ship in distress a mile and a half from shore. Though 
nearly exhausted, the crew got out the lifeboat, and again went 
to the rescue. The ship proved to be a large coal barge, on 
which five nearly frozen men were clinging to the rigging while 
the furious surf constantly broke over them. The lifeboat 
reached the barge, and one by one took the crew off over the 
life-line. They were so chilled and helpless that the life-savers 
did not dare to take them a mile and a half to the station ; so 
they headed the boat to the nearest point on the shore, landed, 
and broke open a vacant cottage near the beach. Fires were 
built in the stoves, and the half-frozen men were stripped of their 
wet clothing, rubbed until the blood began to circulate, and 



88 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



then wrapped in the comforters that were found in the house. 
It was four o'clock in the afternoon before the company reached 
the station. The crew had been constantly on duty all day. 

Through the growing darkness of the short winter day the 
keeper thought that he saw, far in the distance beyond the 
lighthouse, signals of distress. The men were too weary to 
set out again that night, but early the next morning the boat 
was launched and all hands turned out. A tug towed them 
within a quarter of a mile of the wreck, but could go no farther. 




" THE BOAT DREW UP ALONGSIDE THE WRECK.' 



The lifeboat was cut loose, and the crew " with mighty strokes 
sent the boat into the combers on the shore, each man deter- 
mined to outdo his neighbor." At times the waves completely 
covered them, but unharmed, the boat drew up alongside the 
wreck. 

She was in a pitiable condition. Her masts were gone, her 
deck was ripped up, and the timbers were almost dropping apart. 
Away forward a small part of the deck remained, and here five 
men were huddled together. Three of the crew were already 
dead, and the remaining five were hardly able to reach the rescu- 



THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. 89 

ing boat. Then the h"fe-savers rowed quickly away to the wait- 
ing tug, where the sufferers were warmed and fed. 

When the crew reached the station they found a message 
stating that three men could be seen on Black Rock, some dis- 
tance along the shore. A lifeboat belonging to the Massachu- 
setts Humane Society had tried to rescue them, but had been 
overturned, and had not made the attempt again. The crew of 
the life-saving station did not hesitate. The boat was placed 
upon its carriage, and hauled by horses along the beach to a point 
nearer Black Rock. Here it was quickly taken from the wheels, 
run down to the water, manned and launched, while the cheers 
from a hundred men collected on the beach urged it on. 

The boat mounted the waves, which were rolling in " moun- 
tains high," each man bending low over the oars. Now it was 
lost to sight in the trough of the sea, now mounting high on 
the crest of a wave, only to disappear again. The surf was so 
high and dashed against Black Rock so furiously, that for an 
hour the boat hung off, waiting for a favorable opportunity to 
approach. At last a lull came, the boat was rushed toward the 
rock, the three men were pulled in, and without a scratch the 
lifeboat turned toward the shore, in the face of a head-wind. 
Seven o'clock came before the station was reached. 

For two days the crew had worked from morning to night, 
and they had saved nearly a score of men. '* We succeeded," 
said the keeper of the station in his report to the Government, 
" in getting every man that was alive at the time we started for 
him, and we started for him at the earliest moment in each 
case." 



XIV. 

KEEPER CHASE. 

Sandy shoals extend out a long distance about the island of 
Nantucket, off the New England coast, and vessels must keep 
far out to sea if they would escape the dangers of shipwreck. 
Frequently a vessel runs aground, and then the life-savers of 




NANTUCKET LIGHT. 



Coskata know that they have a long, hard duty before them. On 
the morning of a winter day, when the thermometer stood at 
twelve degrees above zero, and a fierce icy norther was blowing, 
Keeper Chase received a telephone message from the lighthouse 
keeper at Sankaty Head, stating that during the night rocket 



KEEPER CHASE. 



91 



signals had appeared off the shore, and as dayh'ght came on he 
could see what looked to be the masts of a schooner on Bass 
Rips. 

" Is the vessel still there? " asked Keeper Chase. 

" Yes, still there." 

'* All right, then. We will launch and go to her at once. 
Call up Vineyard Haven. Tell the keeper to send a tug, if 
one is in port, toward Great Rip. A vessel somewhere beyond 
may need a tug. Tell him that we have gone to her assistance, 
and that we will need the tug to pull us back." 

Instantly the men began to run out the lifeboat and get 
ready for their dangerous voyage. Not one but knew what such 
a trip meant before that raging wind across Nantucket Shoals; 
but not a man refused to go. Mile after mile they rowed until 
Bass Rips, ten miles out, was reached. No vessel was to be 
seen. The schooner must have sunk, or must be beyond on 
the ** Rose and Crown," the most dangerous shoals of the many 
around Nantucket. 

As the lifeboat went on, the tips of masts were seen, then 
the rigging. The schooner had sunk until the railing was 
nearly even with the water, and every wave rolled over her and 
over the seven men who were clinging to the rigging. The 
lifeboat anchored, letting out a long hawser, and then, steadied 
by the oars, drifted down in the current toward the vessel. The 
rowers carefully watched every motion of the keeper and listened 
closely for the slightest command. A false stroke or an instant's 
hesitation meant death for them all. 

When the boat had drifted near enough, a stout stick, to 
which a small line was attached, was thrown aboard the vessel. 
To the end of this line was fastened a heavy rope, which the 
crew hauled in and made fast to the rigging. Hand over hand, 
the men in this boat drew nearer, but their coming was too slow 
for the half-crazed men on board the wreck. They began to 



92 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

draw the line in rapidly, and there was great danger of swamp- 
ing the lifeboat. 

" Make that line fast! " commanded Keeper Chase; but they 
paid no heed. 

Chase took out his knife, opened it, and passed it to the bow 
oarsman. " I have charge here," he cried. " Pull this boat 
another foot nearer and the line will be cut." 

His mighty voice rang out over the raging seas, and the men 
on the wreck saw the open knife. For fifteen hours they had 
expected death, and now that frail boat was their only hope. 
They made the line fast, and the rescuers drew as close as they 
dared. Then over the line, in the life car, the crew slid down, 
one by one, to the lifeboat, where they were drawn in and 
stowed away, too lifeless to help. When the last man was 
aboard, the line was cut, the anchor weighed, and the boat 
turned against the wind. 

Land was out of sight, fifteen miles away. Three hours the 
life-savers toiled without making headway; then they anchored 
until the tide turned. Even with the tide the progress was so 
slow that in six hours after leaving the wreck but one mile of 
the fifteen had been made. 

Night came, and yet the crew toiled on. Finally one said, 
" Captain, let me sleep ten minutes and Fll be all right." So 
they took turns sleeping all through that long, weary night, 
but they could be allowed to sleep only a few moments at a 
time. Every hour they hoped to see the lights of the tug, but 
the only light in sight was that of the lighthouse on Sankaty 
Head. Afterwards they learned that the tug had hung around 
for several hours, and then, not daring to go farther or to stay 
out longer, had returned to Vineyard Haven. 

In the morning of the next day they reached land, at a point 
eight miles from the station at Coskata. It was afternoon before 
they had sufficiently recovered from their exhaustion to proceed 



KEEPER CHASE. 



93 



farther, and when they reached home they found that they had 
been given up for lost. 

The keeper's wife drew down his tired, cold face, and kissed 
it. The tears sprang to his eyes, and in a voice he could scarcely 
control he called to his men, " Now, boys, stow away the boat 
and get your suppers. It's 'most time for the sunset patrol." 



XV. 

BRAVE JACK EAGAN.* 

John Francis Eagan was known as the most courageous 
man in the fire department of Boston. He was a Boston boy, 
born of Irish-American parents, and educated in the pubh'c 
schools, where he had the reputation of being a plucky chap. 
He was always called Jack Eagan. Boy and man, he never 
missed a fire, and he aspired to a place in the fire department be- 
fore he was out of his teens. At twenty he received his appoint- 
ment as a member of the Boston fire department, and five years 
later he was made lieutenant. One year after that he was cap- 
tain, and was placed in charge of the famous Fort Hill division, 
probably the most important in the city. 

It was on a cold March afternoon in 1893 that four alarms 
were rung, one after another in quick succession, saying more 
plainly than words could that the city was threatened with an- 
other conflagration like that which swept away most of her 
business blocks over twenty years before. It started near the 
same spot as the great fire of 1872. It was in Eagan's division. 
The thought flashed from eye to eye and from mouth to mouth, 
" Boston is doomed." 

Hark! what is that ? " Save the Brown-Durell building. It 
is a hundred feet high. It is our only hope." From man to 
man the word was passed. 

" It cannot be saved." 

" It must be." 

* This story of bravery and self-control in time of danger is taken princi- 
pally from one of the popular lectures of Dr. A. E. Winship of Boston. 



BRAVE JACK EAGAN. 



95 



" There Is a hydrant on the roof. If it can be turned on all 
will be well." 

" No one can do it." 

" I will." It was Eagan, the captain. He called for no 
volunteers. He would ask no man to risk his life. Like the 
very wind, Eagan sprang to the fire-escape and fairly flew up the 
side of the building. Once 
upon the roof, he opened the 
hydrant and let the mighty 
stream leap forth. 

He stopped for a moment, 
stepped to the edge of the 
roof, and waved his cap to the 
throng below, as much as to 
say, " I've done it again, 
boys." But oh, tlie horror 
of the next scene ! He turned, 
only to see at the first glance 
that the fire-fiend, thwarted 
in its purpose, had snatched 
up the next building, and the 
blistering flames were dancing 
on the fire-escape. His return 
was completely cut off. There 
seemed no way of escape. 
Again he stepped to the edge 

of the roof and made a sad and pathetic motion with his hand, 
as though he would say, " It's all over, boys. I have done it 
once too many times. Good-by, good-by. " 

The next moment he was all alive with energy and purpose. 
He would never say " too late." At his feet his eye caught 
sight of an electric-light wire which ran across Kingston Street 
to the building opposite. It was his only hope. The current 




CAPTAIN EACiAN. 



96 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

had been withdrawn, he knew. He dropped upon the wire and 
crept out over the street, hoping to reach the building opposite, 
but knowing that every second mright be his last. The wire 
swayed back and forth ; his body quivered with very despair. 
He reached the middle, but the wire sagged so that, though in 
frantic desperation he clutched it, he could not move forward 
another inch. He heard the firemen below moving back, so that 
they might not be there when he fell. His brain reeled. 

"Steady, steady; the life line is coming." Eagan looked up, 
and on the opposite roof saw a man casting the life line as coolly 
and composedly, apparently, as though he were tossing him a 
wreath of honor. The whole scene changed. Eagan grew 
calm, and awaited the relief that was so surely coming. The 
line reached him. Holding himself in position with one hand 
and his feet, with the other hand he adjusted the rope, and was 
safely lowered to the street. 

But how was this brought about? The moment brave Jack 
Eagan dropped upon the wire a man below instantly foresaw what 
would happen, and with commanding firmness called out, 
"Where is the lifeline? The life line ! " Quickly seizing the 
line, he selected four men instinctively and led the way by leaps 
and bounds up flight after flight until he reached the roof, out 
of breath, but superhumanly calm, and not one second too soon. 

The great building was saved, and Boston was saved. We 
know that Jack Eagan saved Boston, but who saved Jack Eagan 
is not known. Heroes, both of them — he who made the race 
with the life line as well as he who went where he would order 
no man to go or follow. 

Jack Eagan's life was saved that he might be of still greater 
service to the fire department. Again and again he exhibited 
conspicuous bravery, until February, 1898, when a fire occurred 
on Merrimac Street, which for a time baffled the energy and 
skill of the firemen. As usual, Jack Eagan was unmindful of 



BRAVE JACK EAGAN. 97 

his personal safety. The entire interior of a large building was 
already nearly burned out. Eagan was on the fifth floor when 
all below him, including the floor on which he was standing, gave 
way. He was carried down with tlie burning mass from the 
fifth to the first floor, and buried in the ruins. His body was 
found as soon as possible, but life was extinct. He was saved 
in the great fire of March, 1893, only to perish because of equal 
bravery in the fire of February, 1898. 
7 



XVI. 
SERGEANT VAUGHAN. 

The Hotel Royal fire in New York City occurred on the 
morning of February 7, 1892, the alarm being given just after 
three o'clock. It was a beautiful morning, but very cold. As 
the officers of Patrol 3, at 104 West Thirtieth Street, started 
out from the station, the captain, who was new in the district, 
asked Sergeant Vaughan where he made the fire to be. The 
sergeant looked up at the glow against the sky, and replied 
that he thought it v/as one of the hotels, either the Royal or the 
Bryant. 

As they drew near they discovered that the Hotel Royal was 
on fire, and that the flames had already made great headway. 
The staircases had been cut off, and the guests were jumping 
from the windows into the street. In the corner window of the 
third story a woman was standing, in her nightrobe, preparing 
to jump, as others Vv^ere doing. Vaughan, who was ever on the 
lookout to save life, had seen from the patrol wagon a chance to 
rescue her. 

"Hey, there, woman !" he shouted, "what are you going to 
do? Don't jump. Stay right where you are, and I'll save you. 
Hear me? Well, mind, then. I'll be there in a minute." 

In a dwelling-house adjoining the hotel he had noticed a 
window on the same level as that at which the woman stood, 
and only a few feet away. Vaughan seized an ax and leaped 
from the wagon to the sidewalk. Before he reached the curb- 
stone the body of a man who had jumped from some window 
above came swiftly through the air and struck the pavement just 



SERGEANT VAUGHAN. 



99 



in front of him. The man's Hfe was instantly crushed out, and 
Vaughan was spattered with blood. Brushing away the blood, 
he ran up the steps of the house, and with a well-directed blow 
of the axe broke through the door. A second stout door 
barred the way, but he kicked that open, and without an instant's 
delay rushed up the two flights of 
stairs and burst into the room at 
the front of the house. 

A man and his wife were asleep 
in this room, wholly unconscious 
of the fire and the peril so near 
them. A word from Vaughan 
quieted the woman's fears. Her 
husband he at once called to his 
assistance, telling him that at the 
next window in the hotel was a 
woman waiting to be saved. The 
sergeant threw up the sash, and 
seating himself astride the sill, 
twined his left foot in the electric 
wires which ran down the divi- 
sion line between the two houses. 
His right foot was firmly grasped 

by the man inside. Thus Vaughan formed with his leg a bridge 
nearly the whole distance between the two windows. 

Meanwhile he had kept the woman encouraged as well as he 
could. This was no easy task, for people were jumping to 
death from above her, and the flames were constantly getting 
nearer and nearer. Finally all was ready, and the sergeant told 
the woman to hold on to the window-casing and step out first 
to his knee, when he grasped her firmly with his left hand. 
Another step brought her near the window-sill, and then 
Vaughan leaned back and thrust her, head foremost, into the 
L.cfC. 




SERGEANT VAUGHAN. 



lOO AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

room through the space in front of him. In this singular fash- 
ion he rescued not only the woman, who was Mrs. Phillips, wife 
of the proprietor of the hotel, but also her child, her husband, 
and another man. 

Mr. Phillips was a stout man, weighing over two hundred 
pounds, and, during his " walk over," Vaughan wondered if his 
knee would not snap under the weight. As it was, although the 
knee did not break, he was painfully injured about the groin. 
Vaughan weighed only a hundred and forty pounds, but he 
was strong and wiry, with the muscles of an athlete. He had 
always been an athlete. He told the narrator — for this entire 
account was taken directly from his own lips — that he had never 
drunk a drop of liquor. When he saw drunken men reeling 
through the streets, he made up his mind that he would never 
be seen in such a condition. Without doubt this good habit 
contributed largely to his power to perform these heroic 
feats. 

As soon as these four persons had been rescued, Vaughan 
rushed to the roof of the dwelling and out through the scuttle. 
The hotel was a story higher than the house, and in the wall 
above the house were four windows with shutters closed. 
These shutters Vaughan quickly burst open, but found the 
rooms empty and the corridors seething with flames. 

As the sergeant saw nothing further to do here, he started to 
go down to the street, but just then he thought he heard a 
smothered cry for help. He looked this way and that, but 
could find no one. Again he started to descend and again heard 
the cry. He searched farther, and finally, by the light of the 
fire, he saw a man standing on a window sill on the farther side 
of the rear of the hotel. Vaughan called to him to stay where 
he was and he would rescue him. 

He hurried down through the house, met four of his men just 
coming from the hotel and enlisted their aid. Not a spare lad- 



SERGEANT VAUGHAN. 101 

der or rope could be found; all were in use. Running past the 
rear of the hotel he reached a house on the opposite side from 
where he had been, and, calling his men to follow him, he hur- 
ried up to the roof. There he waited for his helpers. In telling 
the story he said that it seemed an age before they appeared. 
Finally, one red hat after another came up through the scuttle, 
and Vaughan was ready for work. 

The house had a coping, rising slightly above the roof. The 
sill of the window where the man stood was about seven feet 
below and off to the right. Vaughan pushed his head over the 
coping and called, "Hello, Pop ! " 

"Hello, Fireman," he replied. 

Vaughan told him how he proposed to save him. 

The man looked at the sergeant's slight form — he himself 
weighed two hundred and three pounds — and shook his head. 
"It's no use," he said. "You can't do it. I will stay here till 
it gets too hot; then I'll jump." 

Vaughan said afterwards that he never saw a braver or a cooler 
man, and he made up his mind that he must save him. "No, 
you won't jump," he cried. "It's a pretty hard yard down 
there. I'll save you, or die with you. Now, you do just as 
I tell you, only let me get the first grab." 

The sergeant stripped off his coat, and put his body so far 
over the coping that it swung free from the waist, while the four 
men sat on his legs, two on each. The man at the window wore 
a heavy overcoat, in which he had wrapped himself and had 
then rolled over the floor through the suffocating smoke to the 
window. Vaughan with his outstretched hands could just reach 
his coat collar, which he firmly grasped. At the same instant, 
by previous directions, the man seized Vaughan's wrists. 

Just as the man swung himself free, the flames and smoke 
shot through the window. Vaughan was severely scorched 
about the head and shoulders, but he kept his hold. The man, 



102 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

who was more completely enveloped by the flames, fainted and 
hung limp in the sergeant's hands. However, he still held on 
to Vaughan's wrists with a death-like grip. 

The strain of so much dead weight was terrible. Vaughan 
could hear his joints snap. His intention had been for the man 
to brace his feet against the wall and walk up the side, as it 
were, while his men hauled them both upon the roof. 

" Hoist! " he shouted to the men on the roof. They pulled 
with all their might, but, do their best, the four firemen could 
not move an inch the joint weight of the two men. What next? 
For an instant Vaughan thought that all hope was gone. 

When the man jumped off from the window his body received 
an impetus to swing like a pendulum. As it swayed back and 
forth, a new plan came, like a flash, into Vaughan's mind. 
Could he swing the man far enough for his helpers to catch hold 
of his clothing ? 

He shouted a brief, smothered direction. His men under- 
stood, and two went to the edge of the roof, while the other 
two, with almost superhuman strength, kept Vaughan's body 
from going over the edge. The blood was dripping from his 
ears and nostrils, but by a supreme effort he swung the man's 
body so far that the two firemen caught between their fingers 
an inch of the very border of the overcoat. Exerting all their 
powers, they gained inch by inch till they grasped his undershirt. 
It gave way under the strain. A sudden fear froze the men's 
hearts, but they kept grimly at it until they seized a leg. Then 
they pulled over the coping the unconscious man, and with him 
his brave rescuer. 

A sheet of ice had formed on the roof from the fire-engine 
streams, and back upon this Vaughan fell unconscious. But he 
soon recovered, and with his companions carried the man to the 
bathroom of the house below, and there tried to restore him, 
but in vain. It was here that Vaughan discovered that he was 



SERGEANT VAUGIIAN. 



103 



a white man. He had been so blackened with smoke that 
Vaughan had thought he was a negro. 

The unconscious, man was taken to the ambulance and carried 
to Bellevue Hospital. He did not revive until the next day. 
He was a lawyer from Hazelton, afterwards a member of the 
Pennsylvania Legislature. Later Vaughan received from him 
a splendid, manly letter, with a check for a good round sum 
enclosed, which, however, he refused 
to accept and returned. The New 
York Journal offered Vaughan a gold 
medal, but this he also declined. The 
New York Board of Fire Under- 
writers awarded him a gold medal, 
and of this he is justly proud. 

Vaughan has also received the 
Underwriters' bronze medal for ten- 
years' efficient service, the silver 
medal for fifteen-years' service, and it 
will not be long before he will be 
entitled to the gold medal for twenty-years' service. 

After the heroic deeds of this memorable morning at the Hotel 
Royal fire, the sergeant returned to the patrol house and lost 
no time from duty, though he did not feel like himself again for 
several weeks. He is now Captain of Patrol No. 2, at 31 Great 
Jones Street. He has never ordered his men to go into danger, 
but has always led the way, and they have always confidently 
followed. 




VAUGHAN S GOLD MEDAL. 



XVII. 
AN HEROIC POLICEMAN. 

One Saturday afternoon in December, 1900, a well-known 
business man of Boston and his wife were seated in a closed car- 
riage, with their coachman on the box, driving a pair of spirited 
horses along Commonwealth Avenue. The team was making 
good speed along the wide boulevard, and the driver had the 
horses under perfect control. Just as they reached the top of 
the hill at the Cottage Farm bridge, the spirited pair became 
startled at a sawing machine working on the right side of the 
street — they jumped, and dashed into a gallop. Just as the 
coachman was beginning to check their speed, a steam automo- 
bile rushed by them with great speed, giving the horses a 
terrific fright. Instantly they darted away at breakneck speed. 

The driver did his best to check the frenzied animals, but 
they had taken the bits in their teeth and could not be pulled 
in. Away they galloped on a long down-grade, the carriage 
swerving from side to side. Carriages, bicycle riders and other 
pleasure-seekers gave the runaways a free road, while those on 
foot stopped on the sidewalks and watched with bated breath, 
expecting every moment to see the carriage overturned and the 
occupants thrown to the ground. 

As they came to the up-grade at St. Paul's Street, the driver 
made a determined effort to pull in his steeds, but to no avail. 
He could not check their speed. He therefore directed all his 
efforts to keeping in the road and avoiding a collision. On and 
on sped the thoroughly frightened and almost wild animals. 
They went by the Alston Golf Club grounds like a flash. The 



AN HEROIC POLICEMAN. 



105 



driver kept a tight hold on the reins, yelling at the top of his 
lungs, ** Clear the road ! Look out, look out ! Clear the road " ; 
and at the same time he cautioned the two occupants of the 
carriage to hold fast and keep cool. Much praise was due him 
for his coolness and good judgment. 

A mounted policeman of Brighton, Albert N. Bates, spied 




ALKERT X, liATES. 



the runaways as they neared Brighton Avenue. He was on the 
alert in an instant, and started his horse on the jump ahead 
of the team so that he was going nearly as fast as the run- 
aways when they caught up with him. The distracted animals 
were coming at a great rate, while the driver coolly held a tight 
rein and kept them in the middle of the road, though he could 
not in the least check their speed. Ahead of him the driver 



Io6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

saw that a heavy team had backed across the street, leaving no 
room for passage. " Get your team out of the way. I can't 
stop these horses," he shouted. It looked as if the frightened 
animals would collide with the wagon, but just in the nick of 
time the dray horses were swung in, parallel with the curbing, 
and the runaways went by. It was here that the police officer 
began his good work. He shouted words of encouragement 
to the driver, telling him what to do when he should reach 
him. " I will grab the near horse," he said, " and you pull 
hard on the other one." 

The policeman came abreast of the runaways. Grasping his 
own bridle reins with his left hand and urging his spirited black 
horse to his best speed, Bates leaned far over the neck of his 
animal and seized the rein and curb bit of the near horse with 
his right hand. At the same time the driver gave this horse a 
slack rein and devoted his whole strength to the other runaway. 
The officer's horse kept up the pace, otherwise his rider must 
either have relinquished his hold upon the bit or tumbled off 
under the feet of the runaways. Bates continued to shout to 
the driver. " Give them a straight road. Pull hard on the off 
horse," he said; "we will have them in a minute." 

Though it seemed that there was no let-up in their speed, 
the animals were being rapidly brought to submission. The 
combined efforts of the two men brought them down to a trot, 
and just before reaching Union Square they came to a full stop. 
The gentleman and his wife, frightened but uninjured, were out 
of the carriage in an instant, thanking the officer for what he 
had done. The team was taken to a stable near by, where it 
was found that neither the horses nor the carriage were injured 
in the least. The animals were given a short rest, and then 
were driven back to their stable by the coachman. The mounted 
policeman was a skilled horseman, and this is only one record 
from his long list of captured runaways. 



XVIII. 

RUNAWAY LOCOMOTIVES. 

On May 22, 1900, a party going east over the Santa F^ rail- 
road had just crossed the divide, and the travelers were con- 
gratulating themselves that they had escaped the avalanche 
which at this place a few weeks previously had delayed the 
trains for several days. A heavy rain had fallen the night 
before, so that there was fear of a landslide, but now all prob- 
able dangers seemed safely passed. 

At Trinidad, Colorado, a morning paper was obtained, the 
Denver Republican, and in glancing over its columns the eye 
struck this : 

" Yesterday a curious accident happened on the Santa Fe railroad 
near Trinidad. A large switching engine was in charge of Engineer 
Jones and Fireman Larkin. As it was moving southward from El Moro, 
up grade, the throttle lever by some means became fixed so that it was 
immovable, and the steam, therefore, could not be shut off. The engi- 
neer used every means to shut off steam and stop the locomotive, but 
his efforts were unavailing and the huge monster was, therefore, totally 
unmanageable. The fireman jumped off and was safe. 

'' The engineer, however, stood at his post, trying to find some means 
of moving the lever, but all to no purpose. Directly in front of him 
was a long freight train, just then moving off upon a siding. Finally, 
seeing that his engine was about to run into this freight train, the engi- 
neer leaped off and the locomotive continued to dash onward. For- 
tunately, however, before the runaway reached the freight train, the 
latter had completely passed off from the main track on to the siding 
and the track was clear. But what next would be likely to happen? 



io8 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



The runaway was speeding on toward Trinidad and was likely to dash 
into some train sooner or later. 

*' A young man in the employ of the railroad saw the oncoming 
engine, observed that no one was in the cab, and determined to stop 
the runaway. Hastily securing an elevated position, when the locomo- 
tive approached him he leaped upon it, dashed into the cab, discovered 




WHEN THE LOCOMOTIVE APPROACHED HIM HE LEAPED UPON IT. 



what was the matter, picked up a bar of iron which was lying upon the 
tender, and with one heavy stroke moved the lever, shut off the steam, 
stopped the locomotive, and no harm was done." 

Consider for a moment what this young man had risked. It 
was a dangerous experiment to leap upon a passing engine. He 
might have fallen under the wheels and been crushed to death 
in an instant. If, happily, he secured a foothold, he might still 
be unable to stop the machine until it had dashed into some 
obstruction and his life was again endangered. But with appar- 



RUNAWAY LOCOMOTIVES. lOQ 

ently no thought for his own safety, he was intent only on pre- 
venting an accident — and he succeeded. 

There are many brave men in the employ of the railroads, 
and not infrequently accidents are reported where engineers or 
firemen, or common laborers, appear to be wholly unmindful of 
their own safety, risking all to save the lives of others. What 
faith we have in these men ! We put our lives in the keeping 
of the conductor and the engineer. 

In Christmas week, a few years ago, there passed over Penn- 
sylvania a freezing rain storm. The streets we^e glare ice. The 
rails upon the railroads were covered with ice. On Monday 
before Christmas a long, heavy freight train on the Pennsylvania 
road was coming down the mountains toward Altoona. The 
rails were icy, and the train soon refused to obey the brakes. 
The force of the reversed locomotive, the brakes upon the 
wheels, and every effort that could be put forth, all were useless. 
The engineer was powerless. 

The speed of the train was constantly increasing, but neither 
engineer nor fireman would leave his place. Both stood by, 
doing all in their power to check the speed of the train, but to 
no purpose. On it came, its tremendous length and weight 
adding force to its downward motion. Fifty niiles an hour, 
sixty, seventy, it swept onward, but the faithful engineer and 
fireman stood at their posts, quick of thought, fertile in re- 
source, doing all that could possibly be done to check the speed 
of the heavy train. 

In front of the station at Altoona was standing an empty 
passenger train. With a speed of seventy miles an hour this 
long and heavy freight train dashed into the rear of these pas- 
senger cars. They were completely demolished — broken into 
kindling wood. The engine was overturned, the wreck was 
piled up ten, twenty, thirty feet in height. 

Strange to say, neither engineer nor fireman was hurt, though 



no AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

both were dazed by the overturn. The' engineer pulled himself 
out of the wreck, and, not knowing what he was doing, ran 
across the yard to a high board fence. Evidently, in his bewil- 
derment, he was endeavoring to find a place of safety. As he 
could not reach the top of the fence, and consciousness was 
returning to him, he turned about and saw the fireman running 
towards him. Instantly he exclaimed: 

" Why, Jack, are you safe, too ? " and Jack replied: 
" Yes, thank God, I am." And then and there he dropped 
upon his knees and poured out his gratitude to God for his 
preservation. 



XIX. 
JOHN COULTER. 

John Coulter was a member of the Lewis and Clark party 
which explored the western country from St. Louis to the mouth 
of the Columbia River. They traversed the valley of the Mis- 
souri River in the summer of 1804, passed the winter on the 
eastern side of the Rocky Mountains, and went over the moun- 
tains and down the Columbia River to its mouth the next sum- 
mer. They returned from the mouth of the Columbia to St. 
Louis during the summer of 1806. On their return, when they 
reached the Missouri, Coulter obtained permission from Captain 
Lewis to leave the party, as his services would not be needed 
further, and remain in that region to hunt beaver. The follow- 
ing narrative of Coulter's experiences is taken from Bradbury's 
" Travels in the Interior of North America." This is a work of 
great merit, written by John Bradbury, an Englishman, who 
made a remarkable tour through Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee 
and up the Missouri River in the years 1809, '10, and 'il. The 
account of his travels was published in London in 1817 and had 
a large sale. 

" John Coulter came to St. Louis in May, 18 10, in a small 
canoe from the head waters of the Missouri, a distance of three 
thousand miles, which he traversed in thirty days. I saw him 
on his arrival, and received from him an account of his adven- 
tures after he had separated from Lewis and Clark's party. One 
of these, for its singularity, I shall relate. 

" On the arrival of the party at the head waters of the Mis- 
souri, Coulter, observing an appearance of abundance of beaver 



112 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

being there, got permission to remain and hunt for some time, 
which he did in company with a man by the name of Dixon, 
who had traversed alone the immense tract of country from St. 
Louis to the head waters of the Missouri. Soon after, he sepa- 
rated from Dixon, and trapped in company with a hunter named 
Potts; and, aware of the hostihty of the Blackfoot Indians, one 
of whom had been killed by Lewis, they set their traps by night, 
and took them up early in the morning, remaining concealed 
during the day. 

" They were examining their traps early one morning, in a 
creek about six miles from that branch of the Missouri called 
Jefferson's Fork, and were ascending in a canoe, when they sud- 
denly heard a great noise, resembling the trampling of animals; 
but they could not ascertain the fact, as the high, perpendicular 
bank on each side of the river impeded their view. Coulter im- 
mediately pronounced it to be occasioned by Indians, and ad- 
vised an instant return, but was accused of cowardice by Potts, 
who insisted that the noise was caused by buffaloes, and they 
proceeded. 

In a few minutes afterwards their doubts were removed by 
a party of Indians making their appearance on both sides of the 
creek, to the number of five or six hundred, who beckoned them 
to come ashore. As retreat was now impossible, Coulter turned 
the head of the canoe, and at the moment of its touching, an 
Indian seized the rifle belonging to Potts; but Coulter, who is a 
remarkably strong man, immediately retook it, and handed it to 
Potts, who remained in the canoe, and, on receiving it, pushed 
off into the river. He had scarcely quitted the shore when an 
arrow was shot at him, and he cried out, ' Coulter, I am 
wounded ! ' Coulter remonstrated with him on the folly of at- 
tempting to escape, and urged him to come ashore. Instead of 
complying, he instantly leveled his rifle at the Indian, and shot 
him dead on the spot. 



JOHN COULTER. 



113 



" This conduct, situated as he was, may appear to have been 
an act of madness, but it was doubtless the effect of sudden but 
sound reasoning; for, if taken ahve, he must have expected to 
be tortured to death, according to their custom. He was in- 




A PARTY OF INDIANS MADE THEIR APPEARANCE. 



stantly pierced with arrows so numerous, that, to use Coulter's 
words, ' He was made a riddle of. * They now seized Coulter, 
stripped him entirely naked, and began to consult on the man- 
ner in which he should be put to death. They were at first 
inclined to set him up as a mark to shoot at, but the chieT inter- 



114 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

fered, and, seizing him by the shoulder, asked him if he could 
run fast. 

" Coulter, who had been some time among the Kee-katso, or 
Crow Indians, had in a considerable degree acquired the Black- 
foot language, and was also well acquainted with Indian customs; 
he knew that he now had to run for his life with the dreadful 
odds of five or six hundred against him, and those, armed 
Indians; he therefore cunningly replied that he was a very 
bad runner, although he was considered by the hunters 
as remarkably swift. The Chief now commanded the 
party to remain stationary, led Coulter out on the prairie 
three or four hundred yards, and released him, bidding him 
save himself if he could. At this instant the horrid war- 
whoop sounded in the ears of poor Coulter, who, urged with 
the hope of preserving life, ran with a speed at which he him- 
self was surprised. 

He proceeded towards the Jefferson Fork, having to trav- 
erse a plain six miles in breadth, abounding with the prickly 
pear, on which he was every instant treading with his naked 
feet. He ran nearly half the way across the plain before he 
ventured to look over his shoulder, when he perceived that the 
Indians were very much scattered, and that he had gained ground 
to a considerable distance from the main body; but one Indian, 
who carried a spear, was much before all the rest, and not more 
than one hundred yards from him. 

" A faint gleam of hope now cheered the heart of Coulter, and 
he derived confidence from the belief that escape was within the 
bounds of possibility; but that confidence was nearly fatal to 
him ; for he exerted himself to such a degree, that the blood 
gushed from his nostrils, and soon almost covered the forepart 
of his body. He had now arrived within a mile of the river, 
when he distinctly heard the appalling sound of footsteps be- 
hind him, and every instant expected to feel the spear of his 



JOHN COULTER. II5 

pursuer. Again he turned his head, and saw the savage not 
twenty yards from him. 

" Determined, if possible, to avoid the expected blow, be 
suddenly stopped, turned around, and spread out his arms. The 
Indian, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and perhaps 
by the bloody appearance of Coulter, also attempted to stop; 
but, exhausted with running, he fell whilst endeavoring to throw 
his spear, which stuck in the ground and broke. Coulter instantly 
snatched up the pointed part, with which he pinned him to the 
earth, and then continued his flight. The foremost of the In- 
dians, on arriving at the place, stopped until the others came up 
to join them, when they set up a hideous yell. Every moment 
of this time was improved by Coulter, who, although fainting and 
exhausted, succeeded in gaining the skirting of Cotton-tree 
Wood, on the borders of the Fork, through which he ran and 
plunged into the river. 

" Fortunately for him, a little below this place was an island, 
against the upper part of which a raft of drift timber had lodged. 
He dived under the raft, and, after several efforts, got his head 
above water amongst the trunks of trees, covered over with 
smaller wood to the depth of several feet. Scarcely had he 
secured himself, when the Indians arrived at the river, screech- 
ing and yelling, as Coulter expressed it, * like so many devils.' 
They were frequently on the raft during the day, and were seen 
through the chinks by Coulter, who was congratulating himself 
on his escape, until the idea arose that they might set the raft 
on fire. In horrible suspense he remained until night, when, 
hearing no more of the Indians, he dived under the raft, and 
swam silently down the river to a considerable distance, where 
he landed and traveled all night. 

" Although happy in having escaped from the Indians, his 
situation was still dreadful; he was completely naked, under a 
burning sun — the soles of his feet were entirely filled with the 



Il6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

thorns of the prickly pear — he was hungry and had no means of 
kilh'ng game, although he saw abundance around him, and was 
at least seven-days' journey from Lisa's Fort, on the Big-Horn 
branch of the Yellowstone River. These were circumstances 
under which almost any man but an American hunter would 
have despaired. In seven days, however, during which he sub- 
sisted on a root much esteemed by the Indians of the Missouri, 
he arrived at the fort." 



XX. 
DANIEL BOONE. 

One of the very first settlers in Kentucky was Daniel Boone. 
A few years before the beginning of the American Revolution, 
Boone and five other bold men crossed the mountains from 
North Carolina, explored the country, and built a fort on the 
Kentucky River. It was a long, difficult and dangerous jour- 
ney, over steep mountains where there was no road and not 
even an Indian trail. For hundreds of miles they traveled 
westward over the mountains and through the Cumberland Gap, 
and one evening near sunset they reached the summit of the 
mountains. Before them was spread a beautiful expanse of 
country; near at hand it was hilly; further on it was irregular 
and rolling; but in the distance was a level region " over which 
the buffalo, deer and other wild animals roamed unmolested 
and fed on the luxuriant herbage of the forest." 

They made a camp in a small ravine with a high bank on 
either side. In this gorge of the mountain had fallen a large 
tree, which was completely surrounded with a dense thicket. 
This fallen tree made the back of their camp; logs and sticks 
formed the sides; and bark peeled from the trees the roof 
which sheltered them from the heavy dews. A huge fire before 
the open front kept off wild animals. From this camp they 
scoured the country and hunted the buffalo. They were not 
disturbed, for no Indians were then living in that portion of 
Kentucky. 

Later, Boone retraced his steps several hundred miles back 
to his old home, and then, for the third time, made this perilous 



i8 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



journey with his wife and children. He made his settlement in 
Kentucky at a place that was afterward called Boonesboro. 

During the entire Revolutionary War, Boone and his com- 
panions here defended themselves against the Indians, who 
frequently attacked them. At one time Boone and twenty-seven 
of his men were captured by a band of over one hundred Indians, 
who carried them away to Detroit. There the Indians accepted 
a ransom for all the prisoners except Boone. He was taken 

back with them to Chillicothe and 
was adopted by Blackfish, the 
chief, as his son. 

The ceremony of adoption 
was somewhat severe, though 
some features of it were really 
ludicrous. The hair of Boone's 
head was plucked out by a long 
and painful process, leaving only 
a tuft three or four inches in 
diameter on the top of his head. 
This tuft was allowed to grow for 
a " war-lock," and was dressed 
with feathers and ribbons. He 
was then taken to the river and 
washed and rubbed " to take all his white blood out." From 
the river he was led back to the council house, where the chief 
made a speech in which he showed how great honor had been 
conferred upon the captive. Boone's head and face were then 
painted in the most approved and fashionable style, and the cere- 
mony was concluded by a great feast and smoking the pipe. 

Boone wisely appeared reconciled to his new way of life. To 
avoid suspicion he pretended to be contented and happy with 
his new Indian friends, but secretly he was preparing to escape. 
The Indians carefully watched him. Whenever he left the vil- 




DANIEL BOONE. 



I 19 



lage for hunting, the bullets for his gun were counted, and on 
his return he must give an account of every ball and charge of 
powder missing. Boone therefore divided the bullets, for he 
had observed that half a bullet would kill a turkey, a raccoon or 
a squirrel, as well as an entire ball. In like manner he used 
light charges of powder, and thus hiding them, contrived to save 
powder and ball for his own use if he should find a chance to 
escape. 

Several months after his capture he discovered that four hun- 
dred and fifty warriors were about to march upon his old home 
at Boonesboro. He learned all he could about their plans and 
their proposed route, and determined to get away from the In- 
dians, make his way to Boonesboro, and save his friends, though 
he knew that if he should be retaken death would surely follow. 
One night he quietly stole away and started on a journey of one 
hundred and sixty miles through a trackless forest. He was 
chased by four hundred and fifty Indians, but succeeded in elud- 
ing them, and after four days, during which he had but one 
meal, which was from a turkey he shot after crossing the 
Ohio River, he arrived at Boonesboro. He then learned that 
his wife, supposing she would never see him again, had returned 
with the children to her father's home in North Carolina. 

Under Boone's guidance the fort was quickly repaired, new 
gates were constructed, and before the Indians arrived every 
part was strengthened to stand a siege. Then the whole force 
of Indians and a company of Canadians, with British colors fly- 
ing, appeared before Boonesboro. The Indians were com- 
manded by the chief, Blackfish, and the Canadians by Captain 
Duquesne. Captain Duquesne summoned Boone" in the name 
of his Britannic Majesty to surrender the fort." 

There were only sixty men, besides the women and children, 
within the fort, but Boone would not surrender, preferring to 
fight to the death, even against such odds. Captain Duquesne 



I20 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



again summoned the fort to surrender, but Boone, from within 
the fort, announced that they would never surrender, adding: 
** We laugh at your great preparations, but thank you for giving 
us notice and time to prepare for defense. Take our fort if you 
can, but you cannot." The siege went on. 

The Indians set the fort on fire. A heroic young man took his 
station on the roof, exposed to a shower of bullets, while others 
handed him buckets of water with which he extinguished the 







THE DEFENSE OF BOONESBORO. 



fire. The Indians and Canadians continued the siege for two 
weeks, but then they were obliged to depart and retrace their 
steps to the Indian country, to tell the story of their defeat. 
Thirty-seven of their number were killed and many more were 
wounded, while the loss of the Kentuckians was but two men 
killed and four wounded. 

The settlers of Kentucky were liable to sudden attacks from 
the Indians, in the fields, at their work, when at home in their 
cabins, or on journeys which they must now and then make. In 



DANIEL BOONE. 121 

fact, the Indians were lurking everywhere, singly and in parties, 
looking for a chance to seize a prisoner, take a scalp, or butcher 
a whole company. 

Late one Sunday afternoon, just about the time the Declara- 
tion of Independence was passed in Philadelphia, three young 
girls from Boonesboro, Jemima, the daughter of Daniel Boone, 
and Elizabeth and Frances, daughters of Colonel Richard Calla- 
way, ventured out from the settlement to amuse themselves 
upon the river. As they were floating along in their canoe 
under the overhanging branches of a tree which grew upon the 
shore, an Indian, who had concealed himself in the branches, 
suddenly dropped into the canoe, seized a paddle, and quickly 
drove the canoe to the shore. Immediately he was joined by 
four others, and the girls were hurried off toward the Ohio 
River. 

Their screams had been heard at the fort, and some of the 
men ran down to the shore, only to find the empty canoe. They 
knew in a moment what had happened. Colonels Callaway and 
Boone were just then absent from home. They both returned 
that night, however, and quickly assembling a party for pursuit, 
placed themselves at the head and made a forced march after 
the Indians. The trail was easily followed, because the oldest 
of the girls had broken the twigs and bent the bushes as they 
passed, until she was threatened with the tomahawk if she did 
it any more. After that she tore small bits from her dress and 
dropped them by the way. 

The Indians exercised all caution in their flight. They 
marched in single file some yards apart, through the bushes and 
the cane, and in crossing a creek they waded in the shallow 
water to a considerable distance so as to leave no trace of their 
path. During the night, as they could not follow the trail, 
Boone and his companions were obliged to halt, but at early 
daylight the pursuit was renewed. On the third day they saw 



122 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

a light bit of smoke rising a little distance in advance of them. 
The Indians were cooking their breakfast of buffalo meat. 

This was the critical moment. They must approach cautiously, 
fearing that if they were discovered the Indians might slay their 
captives and escape. Colonel John Floyd was one of the party 
in pursuit, and we have his description of the attack and the 
rescue. 

" Our study had been how to get the prisoners without giving 
the Indians time to murder them after they discovered us. 
Four of us fired, and all of us rushed on them, by which they 
were prevented from carrying away anything except one shot- 
gun without any ammunition. Colonel Boone and myself had 
each a pretty fair shot as they began to move off. I am well con- 
vinced that I shot one through the body. The one shot 
by Boone dropped his gun ; mine had none. The place was 
covered with thick cane, and being so much elated on recover- 
ing the three poor little heart-broken girls, we were prevented 
from making any further search. We sent the Indians off 
almost naked, some without their moccasins, and not one of 
them with so much as a knife or a tomahawk. 

" After the girls came to themselves sufficiently to speak, they 
told us there were five Indians, four Shawnese and one Chero- 
kee ; they could speak good English, and said they should go to 
the Shawnese towns. The war-club we got was like those I 
have seen of that nation, and several words of their language 
which the girls retained, were known to be Shawanese. " The 
return of the girls to the fort was an occasion for great rejoicing. 

" True courage consists, not in rash and brutal force, but in 
that command of the passions by which the judgment is enabled 
to act with promptitude and decision in any emergency." This 
true courage was shown by Colonel Boone on one occasion 
when he came near being captured by four Indians. Boone 
himself related the story at the wedding of a granddaughter a 



DANIEL BOONE. I23 

few months before his death. He had raised a small quantity 
of tobacco to supply his neighbors, for Boone himself never used 
it. He had placed the stalks of tobacco in three tiers on a shed 
made of rails ten or twelve feet in height. The lower tier of 
poles had been covered, and the tobacco was thoroughly dried, 
when one day he entered the shed to remove this dry tobacco 
to the upper tier. While he was standing on the rails some dis- 
tance from the ground, four stout Indians with guns entered 
the low door and called him by name. 

"Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away any more. 
We carry you off Chillicothe this time. You no cheat us any 
more." 

Boone coolly looked down upon the upturned faces and rec- 
ognized some of his old friends, the Shawnees, who had made 
him prisoner years before. With the utmost coolness Boone 
responded : 

" Ah, old friends, glad to see you." He told them that he 
was quite willing to go with them, and asked them to wait a 
moment while he finished removing his tobacco. Then he began 
to inquire after his old acquaintances, and said that he would give 
them this tobacco to take along with them. Meantime he had 
collected together a number of stalks of dry tobacco, and turned 
them in such a way that they would fall between the rails directly 
in the faces of the four Indians. At the same instant that the 
stalks dropped he jumped upon them with as much of the dry 
tobacco as he could gather in his arms, filling their mouths and 
eyes with the pungent dust, and so blinding them that they 
could not follow him. In great haste he rushed out and ran to 
his cabin, where he had ample means for defense. It was a nar- 
row escape, but he could not resist the temptation, when he was 
fifteen or twenty rods away, to look back and laugh at the In- 
dians, who, blinded and nearly suffocated, were stretching out 
their hands and feeling about in different directions and cursing 



124 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

him for a rogue and themselves for fools. The old man in tell- 
ing the story imitated their gestures and tones of voice with 
great glee. 

Daniel Boone was " mild, humane and charitable; his man- 
ners were gentle, his address conciliating, and his heart open to 
friendship and hospitality. The most prominent traits in his 
character were self-command and unshaken fortitude. He 
acquired the habit of contemplation, and was a great admirer of 
nature." In his old age one who had known him well spoke of 
him as " a person just and upright, in whose heart is the seat 
of virtue; a man too pure to admit a thought base or dishonor- 
able. I have ever found him a noble and generous soul, despis- 
ing everything mean." 



XXI. 
ANDREW ELLICOTT. 

Andrew Ellicott is almost unknown to the mass of our 
people. The story of his life, however, reads like a romance. 
He was the son of a good Quaker in Bucks County, Pennsyl- 
vania, where he was born almost one hundred and fifty years 
ago. His father, a few years before the beginning of the Ameri- 
can Revolution, bought a large tract of wild land on the Patapsco 
River, not far from Baltimore, and founded the town of EUi- 
cott's Mills, now Ellicott City. Andrew was sixteen years old 
when his father migrated from Pennsylvania to Maryland. Later 
he became a land surveyor, served as an ofificer in the Revolu- 
tion, and after the war was distinguished for his knowledge of 
science and practical mechanics. 

He was a close and intimate friend of Washington and Frank- 
lin ; was employed at various times as commissioner to run the 
boundaries of Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York; and after 
Washington became President, was appointed by him to survey 
that part of Pennsylvania lying upon Lake Erie. In 1 791, Con- 
gress passed an act locating the capital of the country on the 
Potomac River. The city was planned by Washington and a 
French engineer. Major L'Enfant, but the principal work in its 
lay-out and survey was done by Ellicott. President Washing- 
ton himself fixed the position of the principal buildings, but 
the entire city, with its squares, circles and triangles, and its 
broad avenues crossing the right-angled streets in various direc- 
tions, was the work of Ellicott. 

At the time when Washington was President the Florida 



126 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



country lying south of the United States was owned by Spain. 
The province of Florida extended the whole distance from the 
Atlantic Ocean to the Mississippi River, but the boundary had 
never been accurately determined. Much of the land was 
swampy, and the most of it was a wilderness, but settlements 

were increasing, and it was 
necessary that each nation 
should know just how much 
and how far it owned. Con- 
sequently a commission was 
appointed, consisting of a 
member from the United 
States and a member from 
Spain, which should survey 
and fix the boundary and thus 
ward off future disputes be- 
tween the two countries. An- 
drew Ellicott was selected to 
represent the United States. 

Ellicott was in Philadelphia 
when he received his commis- 
sion. He immediately made 
preparations for his absence, 
and by the middle of Septem- 
ber was ready to set out on 
his journey across valleys and 
mountains to Pittsburg. There he purchased his boats, supplies 
and instruments, hired his assistants and obtained his military 
escort. His undertaking was a most difficult one in the sparsely 
populated country, with no help from railroads or steamboats or 
large storehouses, but Ellicott reached Natchez on the lower 
Mississippi with his part of the outfit complete in a little over 
five months from the day he left Philadelphia. 








ANDREW ELLICOTT. I27 

At Natchez ElHcott expected to meet the Spanish commis- 
sioner, Governor Gayoso, of New Orleans, but he was not there. 
Again and again the governor would set the time for beginning 
to run the line, but each time the day arrived and the gov- 
ernor failed to make his appearance. A year of these vexatious 
delays went by, and at last Ellicott wrote to Gayoso that he 
should commence the work on the loth of April, and the com- 
missioner, if he was not there, must accept his work. Perhaps 
this firm message hastened him, but still nearly two months 
went by before Gayoso and his assistants joined the American 
commissioner. 

Delays, however, were not yet at an end. The way was 
found to pass through numerous swamps and dense forests with 
undergrowth so thick that a path had to be cut with axes. Evi- 
dently Governor Gayoso found his work too difficult, for he went 
back to New Orleans. He left as his representatives William 
Dunbar and Captain Miner, but he did not sign the necessary 
certificates that would make legal the work already done. Con- 
sequently Ellicott journeyed to- New Orleans, got the governor's 
signature, and with fresh supplies returned to his work. 

During the spring and summer he was exceedingly troubled 
by the Creek Indians, and it was with difificulty that he reached 
the Chattahoochee River in August. To this point the boundary 
was run on the 31st parallel; then, after following down the river 
to its junction with the Flint, it was to be a straight line to the 
source of the St. Mary's River, thence following the St. Mary's 
to the ocean. 

Now came a new difficulty. The Seminole Indians, who oc- 
cupied the country through which the line was to pass, would 
not permit Ellicott to go through their territory. All efforts to 
run the line from this point were, therefore, unavailing. What 
was to be done ? Ellicott was not the man to back out. He 
had undertaken to run this line; he had found the latitude and 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 




longitude of the starting-point, on the FHnt River, and he was 
determined to know its direction and the latitude and longitude 
of the St. Mary's River. 

He finally decided that if he could not go through this coun- 
try he would go around it and work up from the Atlantic side to 
the headwaters of the St. Mary's. Having these two extreme 
points fixed, it would be an easy matter at any subsequent time 
to run the line. In order to carry out this plan EUicott pur- 
chased a schooner and 
put in the necessary 
supplies for the voy- 
age around Florida to 
the St. Mary's River. 
Everything being in 
readiness, he weighed 
anchor and set sail, 
but he had no seamen 
on board except two 
illiterate sailors. He 
was not an experienced 
sailor himself, none of 
his men were sailors, 
and none of them had 
ever been over this route before. Here, then, was a novel 
spectacle of a company of land surveyors undertaking to navi- 
gate a schooner through the Gulf of Mexico, past the coral 
reefs, and out into the Atlantic Ocean. 

Nevertheless this brave American gave orders to set sail, and 
they started on their course. When they were well down the 
Appalachicola River and about to launch out into the Gulf, they 
opened a barrel of beef and found that it was tainted. They 
had not a pound of meat on board fit to eat. Some of the men 
immediately demanded that the vessel be put about and that 



ELLICOTT S ROUTE. 



ANDREW ELLICOTT. 



129 



they go back and obtain more meat. " No," said Ellicott, 
" we do not go back, we go forward. You shall have no meat. 
Catch fish." He knew that they had a plentiful supply of bread 
and flour and would not starve. So forward they went; they 
passed Cape Sable and reached the Atlantic Ocean in safety, 
though they encountered violent gales and were in great danger 
from the reefs. 

It should be observed that just at that time the United States 
was practically at war with France. True, war had not been 




.LICOTT SPIED A VESSEL IN THE DISTANCE. 



declared, and it was finally avoided, but the relations between 
the two countries were so strained that French privateers had 
been commissioned to prey upon our commerce. One day when 
Ellicott was sailing along the east coast of Florida, he spied a 
vessel in the distance which he took to be a French privateer. 
He immediately gave orders to get out the ship's swivel gun, 
put on all sail and prepare to attack this vessel. Coming near 
he inquired, ** What vessel is this?" The reply was, " It is a 
prize." The stranger lowered a boat, as if to send it over to 
EUicott's vessel, but soon the boat returned to the sloop and 
she set sail and bore away. 

Ellicott now began to wonder if this was an American vessel 



130 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

taken by a French privateer. " If it is," he thought, " I beh'eve 
1 can capture it." Being the faster sailer he gained upon the 
stranger, and on coming up to her he fired a shot across her 
bows and ordered her to come to. The vessel obeyed, and her 
master brought his papers aboard Ellicott's schooner; she proved 
to be a Spanish ship which had been captured by a New Provi- 
dence privateer. Ellicott then made his apologies and set her 
at liberty. 

Soon afterward they were overtaken by another New Provi- 
dence privateer. Captain William Ball, and ordered to heave to. 
As he could not capture the ship, Ellicott obeyed orders, and 
Captain Ball came on board and insolently demanded the ship's 
papers. He examined Ellicott's commission and instructions 
with the signature of George Washington, President of the 
United States. This document the captain handled with all 
attention and veneration, as if it had been a holy relic. He then 
made his apologies to Mr. Ellicott and, as a compensation for his 
insolence, presented him with a fine turtle, and wished him a 
successful voyage. 

Ellicott and his party reached the St. Mary's the second week 
in December, proceeded up the river, found its source, took the 
exact latitude and longitude, and erected a mound, called Elli- 
cott's Mound, which remains to this day. The survey being 
finished, Ellicott sailed away toward the north and reached 
Philadelphia on the evening of the 17th of May. He had been 
away from his home three years and eight months. 

Forty years or more ago, a joint commission of the United 
States and Great Britain surveyed our northern boundary line 
from the Lake of the Woods to the top of the Rocky Moun- 
tains, but their work was as child's play compared with the 
hardships of the Spanish Boundary Commission. The commis- 
sioners on our northern frontier completed their work in two 
summers with the winter intervening, but the Florida boundary 



ANDREW ELLICOTT. I3I 

occupied Mr. Ellicott twice as long, though the distance was 
only about one-half so great. 

Governor McKean of Pennsylvania afterward appointed 
Ellicott secretary of the Pennsylvania Land Office, a position 
which he held several years. During the last eight years of his 
life he was professor of mathematics at the Military Academy at 
West Point, where he died in 1820, being sixty-six years of age. 



XXII. 
ELISHA KENT KANE. 

Ever since the days of Columbus the great desire of Euro- 
pean merchants and sailors has been to find some direct way of 
reaching Asia and China by sailing west across the Atlantic 
Ocean. After they discovered that a great continent was in 
their way, they continued to search every bay and inlet in the 
hope that a passage through to the Pacific could be found. 
Even when all these attempts failed, expedition after expe- 
dition was sent out to seek a way around North America. In 
time such a passage was found, but, being frozen the greater 
part of the year, it was useless for trade and commerce. 
Many lives have been lost and terrible suffering has been 
endured in this fruitless search to find the " northwest pas- 
sage." Even the additional knowledge of the shape and con- 
dition of land and sea in these distant portions of the earth's 
surface can hardly pay for all the sorrows and anxieties that it 
has cost. 

Sir John Franklin, an Englishman, was the one who proved 
beyond doubt that land did not extend to the north pole, but 
he lost his life and the lives of all his crew in proving it. When 
time went by and his ship did not return, vessels were sent to 
search for him. Though they returned unsuccessful, Franklin's 
brave wife would not give up hope. She appealed not alone to 
Englishmen but to Americans not to leave her husband to die 
in the frozen north. In 1850 a kind-hearted American, Mr. 
Grinnell, fitted out two strong vessels, which the United States 
Government accepted and manned with ofificers and men from 



ELISHA KENT KANE. 



133 



the navy. Among those who volunteered to go on this difficult 
journey was Dr. Kane. 

Elisha Kent Kane was never happier than when engaged in 

















<^. .A^^c^<:^ 





some desperate adventure. As a boy he was always doing what 
other boys could not do ; he could climb like a cat, and knew not 
what fear meant. Consequently he earned in his neighborhood 
the character of "a bad boy." People could not understand a 



134 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

boy who, when a schoolmaster was about to punish a younger 
brother, jumped up with the cry, " Don't whip him, he's such 
a Httle fellow — whip me." Elisha wished to protect one who 
was younger and weaker than himself; but the teacher thought 
it insubordination, and the result was that both boys were 
soundly whipped. The same spirit of generosity led Elisha in 
after life to respond quickly to a call for help. 

An interesting story of one of his boyish feats shows how 
carefully he thought out every step of even the wildest adven- 
ture. At his home in Philadelphia the kitchen ell was much 
lower than the rest of the house. Consequently, as the chimney 
would not draw, it had been built up to the levgl of the higher 
roof. This tall chimney greatly fascinated Elisha. He deter- 
mined that in some way he would reach the top, and one moon- 
light night, when everybody was asleep, he and a younger brother 
slid down the roof of the front building to that of the kitchen. 
Here they found the clothesline with a stone securely tied to 
one end, which Elisha had carefully hidden away the day 
before. 

** What is the stone for, Elisha? " asked his brother. 

** Why, you see, Tom, the stone is a dipsey. I call it a 
dipsey because I am going to throw it into the flue, so that it 
will run down into the old furnace, carrying the line down with 
it, and then I can slip down and fasten it there. Now for a 
heave. The chimney top is almost too high for me. It is pretty 
near twenty feet, I should think, but I'll do it." 

It took many throws before success came, but at last the 
stone went rattling down the flue. Then, after the lower end 
of the rope had been securely fastened at the bottom of the 
chimney, Tom held tightly to the other end while Elisha climbed 
up to the top. The chimney was built on the outside of the 
gable, and was forty or fifty feet from the ground; the loose 
bricks at the top fell, but Elisha kept on until, getting his arm 



ELISHA KENT KANE. 1 35 

over the edge, he carefully pulled his body up and seated him- 
self at the top. 

" Oh, Tom, what a nice place this is! " he cried. " I'll get 
down into the flue to my waist and pull you up, too. Just 
make a loop in the rope and I'll haul you in. Don't be afraid 
— it is so grand up here." 

But Elisha's strength was not equal to his willingness to give 
his brother the same outlook, and Tom was not able to climb 
alone. When Elisha was satisfied with his nearer view of the 
stars, he slid down the rope and went back to bed and to sleep, 
happy because he had succeeded. 

Dr. Kane was in the Gulf of Mexico when a message reached 
him from the Naval Department at Washington to " proceed 
forthwith to New York, for duty upon the Arctic expedition." 
He set out immediately, and traveling with all speed reached 
New York forty hours before the vessels sailed. They were in 
command of Lieutenant De Haven, and Kane was the senior 
surgeon of the expedition. De Haven had never met his phy- 
sician, though Kane had served in the navy for several years. 
He was slight and delicate, and, as far as outside appearance 
went, hardly fitted for the hardships of an arctic voyage. 
De Haven was so disappointed that if there had been time he 
would have asked to have Kane exchanged for a stronger man. 
As soon as the ships set out to sea Dr. Kane became seasick 
and did not recover for many days. When Greenland was 
reached De Haven suggested that he had better return home. 
The doctor looked at him a moment in almost blank dismay, 
and then announced firmly, " I won't do it." In two-weeks' 
time he was the busiest man on board the two vessels, and 
De Haven soon appreciated and acknowedged his bravery and 
ability. 

The expedition was gone sixteen months and returned un- 
successful. No trace of Sir John Franklin had been found, but 



ELISIIA KENT KANE. 137 

Dr. Kane was unwilling to give up the search. " I think of 
them ever with hope," he wrote. " I sicken by not being able 
to reach them." Two years later another vessel was fitted out, 
and this time Dr. Kane himself was in command. 

The rules that Kane made for his crew were very simple: 
" to obey absolutely the commanding ofificers, to use no profane 
language, and to abstain from all intoxicating liquors." This 
last rule was found to be especially necessary, and has been con- 
firmed by Lieutenant Greely, v/ho commanded a later expe- 
dition to the Arctic Sea. He found that the men who did not 
use strong drinks could endure more and suffered less than those 
who did. 

At the end of thirty months Kane and his crew returned to 
New York with the party that had been sent out to search for 
them. Their sufferings had been terrible. Their vessel, the 
Advance, had been frozen into the ice for two winters, food 
nearly gave out, and the beams of the ship had to be cut away 
to burn for fuel. At times every member of the party had been 
seriously sick with scurvy; three had died, and many had lost 
fingers or toes from freezing. 

Just before Christmas in their second winter, the fuel became 
so low that they were obliged to use an Eskimo lamp to cook 
their food. The odor of the oil was so offensive that these 
lamps could not be kept in the cabin, and one day, when the 
watch deserted his duty, a fire was found in the cook room. 
Eight of the men were sick in their bunks unable to rise; the 
thermometer was 46" below zero and the only water that could 
be had must be melted drop by drop. Somehow the fire was 
put out, and with thankful hearts they celebrated Christmas Day. 

''We passed around merrily our turkeys, roast and boiled, 
roast beef, onions, potatoes and cucumbers, watermelons and 
other cravings of the scurvy-sickened palate, with entire exclu- 
sion of the fact that each one of these was variously represented 



138 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

by pork and beans. . . . What portion of its mirth was 
genuine with the rest I cannot tell, for we are practiced actors, 
some of us; but there was no heart in my share of it," wrote 
Dr. Kane. 

Whether his heart was heavy or not, Dr. Kane bravely kept 
his discouragements to himself. Finally, perceiving that the 
brig was so firmly frozen into the ice that there could be no 
possible hope of getting her into open water again, he deter- 
mined to abandon her and to set out for home over the ice. It 
might be his duty to stay by the brig, but he had no right to 
expose his men to the sufferings of another winter. Carefully 
he made his plans, and then on sledges and in open boats they 
made a long journey of thirteen hundred miles back to Green- 
land, where they were met by the rescue party. 

"There, now, we have had all our hard work for nothing," 
cried one of the crew, who had once kept at the oars for twenty- 
two hours. 

" What," said Dr. Kane, " are you sorry that we owe our 
deliverance to our own exertions? " 

Though the men did their share, it was Dr. Kane's exertions 
and not theirs that saved the expedition. His cheerfulness kept 
up their spirits when they were discouraged; his gentleness and 
unselfishness protected them when they were sick; his firmness 
kept them moving when they were ready to sink from fatigue. 
Though he had failed again to find Sir John Franklin, he had 
won lasting honors by his perseverance and self-sacrifice. 



XXIII. 
TWO BRASS KETTLES. 

What a hard time the early settlers of New England did 
have ! The forests which covered the country must be cut down 
and the stumps dug out before the land could be prepared for 
cultivation. Houses built of rough-hewed logs had but one 
room and were inconvenient and hardly fit to live in. The 
means for cooking were most primitive, and food must neces- 
sarily be of the simplest kind. There were no grocery or dry- 
goods stores, no blacksmiths' or shoemakers' shops, no factories 
for the weaving of cloth. The winters were exceedingly cold 
and the summers correspondingly hot. 

Added to all these hardships, was the constant fear of hostile 
Indians. It was difficult to keep peaceful relations between the 
civilized white man and the red man of the forest. Misunder- 
standings were frequent, and wrongs were perpetrated on both 
sides. The Indians were suspicious and treacherous, and even 
those who wished to live in friendship with them found it diffi- 
cult to keep the peace. The Indians constantly observed the 
habits of the English, and seized upon the most favorable times 
for their attacks. Frequently the rude dwellings of the settlers 
were set on fire during the night and, when the family fled for 
their lives, they were shot down by the arrows of an unseen foe. 
The utmost watchfulness was required, and the constant danger 
made the settlers not only cautious, but skillful in means for 
their own protection. 

A singular story is told of a young woman in Dorchester, 
Massachusetts, and how she saved herself and two children from 



I40 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



a hostile Indian. It was on a Sunday, late in the forenoon. An 
Indian had been lurking about the neighborhood ; he evidently 
knew that the family had gone to church. Whoever was left 
behind to care for the two little children would be at his mercy. 
He crept up stealthily toward the house, but the watchful eye 
of the nurse was on the lookout. The two little ones were at 




THE ENEMY WAS JUST RAISING THE WINDOW SASH. 

play upon the floor. Two brass kettles were standing empty 
near the fireplace. Quick as a flash the nurse turned one kettle 
bottom upward over one child and the other over the other 
child, and cautioned them not to make any noise, or the Indian 
would catch them and carry them off. By this time the enemy 
had reached the house and was just raising the window sash 
preparatory to springing into the room, when, with wonderful 



TWO BRASS KETTLES. I4I 

quickness, the woman picked up the shovel lying upon the 
hearth, filled it with live coals, and threw them with all force 
into the Indian's face. Blinded and suffering extreme torture 
from the burning coals, he fled from the house and was seen no 
more in the neighborhood. The young woman then released 
the children from their prison houses, took down the trusty fire- 
lock from its hooks on the wall, and passed the time until the 
family arrived from church in watching for the return of the 
Indian. 

Great was the surprise of the family on their return, to learn 
what had happened. We may imagine the conversation which 
ensued ; how quickly and rapidly the woman told them the 
story; what questions the mother asked; how she hugged her 
darling children to her breast in gratitude for their safe deliver- 
ance. We may suppose that the young woman added: 

" I was not so much troubled for myself as for the children. I 
feared the old savage would carry them off with him to his wig- 
wam in the forest, and we should see them no more. My first 
thought was to put them out of his sight. Having accomplished 
that, and knowing that I should not have time to seize the 
musket to fire at him, I flung the hot coals in his face. After- 
wards I was almost disappointed that he did not return, for had 
he done so I am sure the old musket would have ended his life." 

Let us be thankful that we do not live in such troublous 
times or have to undergo such hardships as befell our forefathers 
who first settled our beautiful country. 



XXIV. 
LUCY GOODELL BLAKE. 

It was in the winter of the year 1821. Mr. Harrison G. 
Blake set out on the 19th of December from Salem, New York, 
with his wife and one child about fourteen months old, to visit 
his parents in Marlboro, Vermont. They traveled in a sleigh 
with one horse, and stopped for the night at a tavern in the 
town of Arlington at the foot of the Green Mountains. The 
next day they continued on their journey in good spirits, for the 
snow was only about six inches deep, the landlord had told 
them that the road was good, and that they would have no dif- 
ficulty in getting across the mountains. Being thus assured, 
they began the ascent, but after going two or three miles they 
came to the end of any trodden road. The snow here was 
about three feet deep. Still they continued to make the best 
of their way forward, until their horse became so fatigued that 
they had to leave the sleigh. Mrs. Blake and the baby pro- 
ceeded on horseback, with Mr. Blake traveling on foot by their 
side. Finally the strength of the horse was utterly exhausted, 
and he would go no farther. 

The case was now desperate, but they could not remain 
where they were in the storm and the deep snow. The weather 
was extremely cold, and they were liable to freeze to death. 
Nothing remained for them then but to walk, but this was very 
difficult. When it seemed that Mrs. Blake could go no farther, 
her husband went forward alone in search of help. They agreed 
to answer each other by loud calls as long as they could be 
heard. 



LUCY GOODELL BLAKE. 



143 



The darkness of the night had gathered around them, and 
they were in the middle of a gloomy forest which was nine miles 
in extent. Mr. Blake had given his warm mittens to his wife 
and had wrapped his overcoat around her and the child. Under 
these circumstances Jack Frost was playing havoc with him 
faster than he knew. His feet and legs refused to obey his 




" MRS. BLAKE AND THE BABY PROCEEDED ON HORSEBACK." 



will; his fingers were numb, and he could not tell what the 
matter was, but by striking his hands against a tree he found 
that they were frozen. Still he went on until he was so ex- 
hausted that he could not walk, and even then he tried to crawl 
forward by laying a stick before him and drawing himself for- 
ward to it. Soon he found himself utterly unable to move. He 
and his wife were still within call, and she asked him if he was 
likely to obtain help. He replied that he could get no farther. 



144 



ame!rican heroes and heroism. 



Thereupon she answered that she would come to him and they 
would die together, but the snow was so deep that she could 
not reach him. They both continued to call for help, and at 
last their outcries were heard by people at the nearest house. 

It happened that a Mr. Richardson had gone over the moun- 
tain and was expected back, but had not returned. Mr. Rich- 
ardson's son, learning that cries had been heard in the forest, 
started out at eleven o'clock at night on the 20th of December, 
hoping to find his father, who he supposed was the one in dis- 
tress. He did not find his father, but he came upon Mr. Blake, 
who by that time was senseless, with hands and feet badly 
frozen. The young man rubbed the frozen limbs, gave him 
some spirits which he had brought with him, took him up and 
carried him to the nearest house. 

When Mr. Blake had so far recovered as to be able to say 
that his wife and child were still on the mountain, Mr. Richard- 
son with one other man started to find them. Mrs. Blake was 
discovered about forty rods beyond the place where her husband 
had been found, but it was too late to save her life. The 
rescuers pushed onward, searching for the child, and found it, 
under the snow, about one hundred and fifty rods farther. The 
mother had wrapped the child in her own cloak, the father's 
overcoat, and the blanket that had been taken from the sleigh. 
When the babe was lifted out of the snow it awakened from its 
quiet sleep and looked up to its rescuers with a smile. Mrs. 
Blake had done all that the mother instinct could do to save the 
life of her child. She had died, but the child and the father 
lived. 

The family afterward moved to Ohio, where the little girl, 
thus saved from death by freezing, at the cost of the mother's 
life, lived .to a good old age and died in the city of Cleveland a 
few years ago. She had a brother two years older than herself, 
who was named after his father, Harrison Gray Blake. This 



LUCY GOODELL BLAKE. 145 

brother came to be a well-known public man in Ohio. He 
served that State two years in the House of Representatives, 
was Speaker of the House, and was twice elected to the State 
Senate before he was thirty years of age. He was twice elected 
to Congress, and, as a member of the Committee on Post-offices, 
he framed and secured the passage of a bill which gave to the 
country the present post-office money-order system. He served 
in the Union army during the Civil War, and at one time was 
Colonel of the i66th Ohio regiment. After the war he was 
again and again chosen mayor of Medina. 

The bravery of this heroic mother was many years ago made 
the subject of the following poem by Seba Smith, of Maine, 
well known as the author of the " Major Jack Downing Let- 
ters." It was originally published in the ** Eastern Argus," 
Portland, Maine. 

THE SNOWSTORM. 

The cold winds swept the mountain height, 

And pathless was the dreary wild. 
And 'mid the cheerless hours of night 

A mother wandered with her child; 
As through the drifted snows she pressed. 
The babe was sleeping on her breast. 

And colder still the winds did blow, 

And darker hours of night came on, 
And deeper grew the drifts of snow — 

Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone; 
" O God ! " she cried in accents wild, 
*' If I must perish, save my child ! " 

She stripped her mantle from her breast. 
And bared her bosom to the storm. 



146 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

As round the child she wrapped the vest 

And smiled to think her babe was warm. 
With one cold kiss one tear she shed, 
And sank upon a snowy bed. 

At dawn a traveler passed by ; 

She lay beneath a snowy veil — 
The frost of death was in her eye — 

Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale. 
He moved the robe from off the child — 
The babe looked up and sweetly smiled. 



I 



XXV. 
PAUL L. FISCHER. 

** Fire! Fire! Fire! " rang out from the basement of the 
Melrose Flats. " Fire! Fire! " echoed from the second story. 
*' Fire! Fire! Fire!" came in shrieks from all parts of the 
great six-story structure. 

** Melrose Flats is on fire " was announced in the neighbor- 
ing Drexel Theater, and five hundred spectators hastened to the 
spot. 

" Melrose Flats is on fire " came the telephone message to 
the fire department, and the firemen were on their way to the 
scene before the alarm was rung in. 

" Melrose Flats is on fire" brought Sergeant Murphy and 
a squad of policemen to the burning building in quick time. 

Yes, surely, Melrose Flats was on fire. The smoke was 
pouring out of the first-story windows. The flames were leap- 
ing up the ventilator-shaft. The hallways were rapidly filling 
with smoke. Soon passage through them would be impossible. 

What of the tenants in this fated building? What hope of 
escape from the flames had the fifty families occupying Melrose 
Flats? Those who lived on the first floor could escape by the 
doors and windows without harm. The second-story tenants 
could rush through the smoke and escape if they did not spend 
too long a time gathering their precious possessions. But what 
of the others? 

The policemen rushed up the stairs. When they m.et any 
of the inmates they turned and, pushing and shoving, hastened 
them to the street. They dashed into the rooms in the second 



148 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



story and dragged out those whom they found still packing or 
too frightened to run. 

The fire was rushing on, and smoke was fast rendering the 
hall impassable. The policemen cleared the third floor and 
helped down the tenants of 
the fourth. But there were 
two stories higher yet. What 




" DOWN THROUGH THE SMOKE THE ELEVATOR RUSHES. 

hope for those frightened people in the upper part of the 
building? 

Ah! but see! The elevator is rising! It reaches the top 
floor. 'Elevator! Elevator!" The voice of Paul Fischer, 
the elevator-boy, rings out above all other sounds, and a panic- 



PAUL L. FISCHER. I49 

stricken crowd quickly gathers. In an instant the elevator is 
filled, and down through the smoke it rushes to the ground 
floor. It is quickly emptied, and then up again goes Fischer. 

Day after day he has run the elevator up and down, and why 
not now? But suppose that in passing through the smoke it 
should overpower and suffocate him? Suppose that the fearful 
flames should seize the shaft and cut off all escape? No matter. 
His duty is to run the elevator; and again his ringing call brings 
the tenants of the upper floor to the lift. 

Down the shaft and up again rushes the elevator. Blackened 
by smoke and choking, Fischer still remains at his post. A 
fourth time the car brings down in safety its load of passengers. 
A fifth and a sixth trip follow, and still there are tenants who 
have not escaped. 

The smoke is suffocating in the elevator-shaft, but Fischer 
rushes the lift up again and brings down the precious freight. 
An eighth and a ninth trip are made, and still a few are left on 
the fifth floor. 

Now Fischer asks himself, " Can I do it again? No! Yes, 
I can try." 

Blinded, breathing with difficulty, wearied by the strain, he 
again opens the elevator door at the top of the building. With 
a voice very unlike the first clear call, he shouts hoarsely, " Last 
trip! " A minute only, and the last load is safely down. But 
what a minute ! Gasping and staggering out of the elevator, 
the passengers would then and there have perished had not the 
police been at hand to help them to the street. 

This one trip was terrible to the passengers. It was even 
more trying to the elevator-boy, for it was his tenth, after nine 
others each more fearful than the one before. For them it was 
a possible escape from death. For him it was going to probable 
destruction. For them it was each one for himself. For him 
it was others first, self last. 



150 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

His brief account of his daring was; " When I got a load I 
shot the car down to the first floor and went up for another. It 
seemed as if I had been working that way for hours, when the 
thick, black smoke poured into the shaft and suffocated me. 
After that I had to give it up, and I skipped out." Paul Fischer 
was not only brave but modest. 



XXVI. 
BILLY MAHEW. 

Nearly every one has heard the story of the little Dutch 
boy who, returning from his grandmother's, heard water gurgling 
through the dike. This sound will send terror to the stoutest 
heart, for unless the leak can be stopped at once it means death 
for many, and the destruction of valuable property which long 
years of struggle have rescued from the sea. Even the children 
know its meaning and the necessity for immediate action. This 
little fellow did not run for help; he dared not waste time. 
Failing to find anything to force into the opening, he placed his 
own hand there and held it in position the whole night through. 
When morning came he was found nearly dead from cold, but 
Haarlem and the lives of thousands had been saved. 

All justly applaud the courage and persistency of the " Hero 
of Haarlem," and the story is carried down from father to son 
and from son to grandson ; but often in our admiration for that 
which has happened years ago we take no notice of, or we for- 
get, similar acts of self-forgetfulness that are done in our own 
land and our own time. 

A few years age a lad, Billy Mahew, living in the Pine Ridge 
region of western Virginia, went up one morning to the thickly 
wooded hillside to chop wood. He was a hard-working boy, 
and an interested helper in his humble home. So when night 
came and he did not return his friendsgrew anxious, and a party 
was organized to search the mountains. When the lad was 
found it was too late to save his life, but not too late to save 
the village, Billy Mahew also had saved a whole community. 



1 



152 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



Far up the valley the inhabitants had built a high dam across 
the stream. This dam, reaching from slope to slope of two 
mountains, formed a huge reservoir from which the water was 
carried down to the houses below. Heavy rains had filled the 
reservoir to overflowing, and the great pressure of water had 
weakened the dam. At its base a large stone had been forced 
out, and a dangerous leak had been started. 

Evidently Billy had discovered this leak early in the morn- 
ing. He thought 
no more of his 
wood-chopping ;he 
directed every ef- 
fort to stopping 
immediately the 
flow of water, lest 
the whole dam 
should give way, 
and the immense 
voluiyieof the pent- 
up stream should 
go rushing down 
the valley, carry- 
ing everything be- 
fore it. Without doubt he shouted with all the force of 
his strong lungs, but only the echoing mountains sent back 
a reply. Whatever could be done he must do himself. He 
rolled up stones to keep the slipping boulder in its place, 
but they made an ins^ufificient prop. Then, as a last resort, he 
placed his own body against the stones. The hours went by, 
and no one came along from the valley below. Billy grew 
weaker and weaker, and little by little the water began to wash 
over him as the stone slowly slipped from its place. He could 
not help knowing that unless assistance came quickly.the mighty 




"--^^" 



m'-t¥ 



HE PLACED HIS OWN BODY AGAINST THE STONES. 



BILLY MAHEW. 1 53 

power above would overcome his feeble resistance, but he re- 
mained at his post. When he was found, the water was rushing 
over his face, and his body was stiff in death. 

All night the men worked with desperate energy to strengthen 
the dam and save their homes, yet they ever felt that their pres- 
ervation was due to Billy Mahew and not to themselves. They 
buried him on the mountain side close by the great reservoir, 
which is his only monument, but though few others know of his 
heroism, he is not forgotten by the people whose homes and 
families he saved. Every year his lonely grave is heaped with 
flowers, and although he did not fall in battle either on land or 
sea. Union and Confederate veterans place each Decoration Day 
the stars and stripes and the stars and bars above his resting- 
place. 



XXVII. 
GEORGE E. WARING, JR. 

It is practically a modern idea that dirt and disease go 
together. In the olden time people walked over floors that were 
covered with rushes matted with grease and crumbs thrown from 
the table. Refuse heaps decorated the front entrances of their 
houses, and mud and stagnant pools of water filled the streets. 
When odors became unendurable spices were burned to cover 
them. When terrible epidemics carried off thousands of citizens 
they were considered a sign of God's wrath. No one thought 
of connecting the disease with the filth by which the rich and 
poor alike were surrounded. 

As years went by it became unfashionable to throw food and 
bones under the table; refuse heaps were at least banished to 
the back yards; carpets took the place of rushes, and streets 
were sometimes cleaned. But these changes were due more to 
a higher sense of the fitness of things, to the more luxurious 
mode of living and the dislike of the gallants to soil their 
dainty foot-wear, than to the discovery of the causes of sick- 
ness. 

It was left for the people of the nineteenth century to learn 
that it is impossible to have health without cleanliness — without 
clean bodies, clean homes, clean yards, clean streets, and clean 
sewers. They also learned that it is less expensive to prevent 
than to cure disease, and easier to discover and remove the 
causes of a plague than to stamp it out when once it has begun 
its work. Old, rickety tenement-houses, foul with accumula- 
tions of filth, were torn down ; proper systems of sewers were 



GEORGE E. WARING, JR. 



155 



built to carry off under ground the liquid waste of cities and vil- 
lages; other refuse matter was destroyed or put to use; and 
parks were laid out, not only to beautify, but to let in fresh air 
and sunlight. Cities began to boast of their cleanliness, and to 
vie with one another in lowering the death-rate. 

But New York, our largest city, which ought to set the 
standard, was a disgrace not only 
to its own inhabitants but to 
the whole country. It had the 
proper machinery in abundance 
— health boards, street and 
sewer commissioners, and vari- 
ous other means; but the officers 
were appointed because they had 
influence and not because they 
were efficient. Therefore they 
were more interested in helping 
themselves than in improving 
the condition of the citizens. 
The city had been dirty so long 
that the people thought it must 
always be dirty. " New York 
is different from other cities," 
some used to say; " other cities 
may be kept clean, but New 

York cannot." The reason for this was not clear, but 
is, must be," seemed to be the general opinion. 

In 1895 a new administration was inaugurated, pledged to 
reform certain conditions that had become unbearable. Among 
the many officials the mayor appointed a new street commis- 
sioner, Colonel George E. Waring, Jr. He had had great ex- 
perience as a sanitary engineer, and had changed many places 
from pest-holes to healthful communities. No better man could 




COLONEL GEORGE E. WARING, JR. 

what 



156 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

have been found for the place than he, " the apostle of cleanli- 
ness, the scourge of dirt." 

His position was not an easy one, and many would have 
been discouraged at the outset. His friends told him that it 
was a shame for a man with his genius to waste his talents and 
services on a political job; newspapers and politicians opposed 
to the new administration abused him; and the men employed 
in the street department distrusted him and warned one another 
to " look out for his tricks." Few men have undertaken a work 
under more hostile conditions, and Colonel Waring showed the 
highest kind of courage and persistency in standing at his post. 
He thoroughly believed that the reason why cities were misgov- 
erned was because men of ability and honesty were unwilling 
to do their duty and devote themselves to the public good. He 
paid no attention to the censures and reproaches of foes and 
friends, and having faith in his ability to lead men, he set to 
work. He simply asked of the mayor that he be let alone and 
be allowed to have his own way. 

The public ridiculed the thousands of men in the employ of 
the street department. Knowing that their work was thought 
to be degrading, they had lost their self-respect, and did their 
work carelessly. Colonel Waring's first duty was to arouse 
their enthusiasm and to make them efficient. Then the public 
would be forced to respect them, for any work well done is 
respectable, no matter how lowly it may be. It is only poor 
work and a poor workman that should be held in contempt. 
He early let the men know that no one should lose his posi- 
tion except for poor work. It made no difference whether 
a man was a Republican or a Democrat, or had no political 
beliefs at all; if he did good work he could stay, if poor he 
must go. 

Colonel Waring next provided the men with good tools. 
Stables were cleaned, carts were painted, harnesses were black- 



f 



GEORGE E. WARING, JRo I57 

ened and kept in repair; horses were groomed; new appliances 
were bought ; new methods were inaugurated. But when one 
day the men appeared in white duck suits New York laughed in 
derision. " Waring has gone crazy," said one. ** He must be 
a crank," said another. ** The idea! dressing a street-cleaner 
in a white suit! How long will he keep it clean? " said a third. 
Colonel Waring said nothing, and people acknowledged his wis- 
dom in time. A white suit was out of place in a dirty street. 
The men must keep their suits clean, and therefore they must 
keep the streets clean also. People began to respect them and 
they respected themselves. They held up their heads and 
walked erect. They used their brooms with a will. As Colonel 
Waring said, there was a man at the other end of the broom 
handle, not merely a voter. 

The impossible began to appear possible. The streets be- 
came clear of dirt in dry weather and of slime in wet. Rubbish 
was collected and disposed of; the carts and drays which at 
night and on Sundays blocked most of the streets down town, 
were housed where they belonged. The snow, which in the 
old days hindered business, was cleared away. The men 
were ready for it before it came, and went to work intelligently 
even before the snow stopped falling. Instead of picking 
their way amid slush and water, people walked dry shod. 
It is reported that the president of one of the great rubber 
overshoe companies said that his company had lost one 
hundred thousand dollars because of the work of the new street 
commission. 

One of the greatest difificulties that Colonel Waring had was 
to secure the cooperation of the people. They would throw 
peanut shells and banana skins on the sidewalks and in the 
parks; they would tear up their letters and let the wind scatter 
the pieces. Working as carefully as they could, the cleaners 
could not keep down-town streets free from scraps. The help 



158 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

of the boys and girls was enlisted in these districts. Many a 
man was warned by these sharp-eyed children to " pick up dem 
papers, 'cos it's against the law." If he refused, a policeman 
was called to enforce obedience, and a lesson in neatness was 
learned that was not soon forgotten. 

Not the least part of Colonel Waring's work was its effect 
upon the people. Even the poorest took pride in their better 
surroundings. A woman in one of the worst quarters was heard 
to say: ** Well, I don't care, my street is cleaner than yours is, 
anyhow." Clean streets made their dirty rooms look all the 
dirtier, and women began to clear up their homes and to take 
greater care of their own appearance. And as outward sur- 
roundings affect the moral and mental condition of men and 
women, who can estimate the value of the work which Colonel 
Waring began? 

At the end of three years the old political leaders came once 
more into power. Colonel Waring's place was filled by another, 
but never again could New York go back to the old conditions. 
The people, having once known the advantages of clean streets, 
would never again put up with mud and filth. 

When the war with Spain ended there was more work for 
Colonel Waring. Havana had long been known to be the 
pest-hole of the American continent. It was the home of the 
yellow fever, and from there this terrible disease was brought into 
the United States. So long as Cuba remained under Spanish 
control, the United States could do nothing about cleaning 
out the harbor and sewers, but as soon as the war was ended 
President McKinley sent Colonel Waring to study the condi- 
tions there and report the best plans for cleaning the city. 
With his accustomed thoroughness, he carefully went over not 
only the sewerage system of Havana, but also that of other 
Cuban cities, and returned to New York after three weeks of 
hard work. His report was ready for the President, and he was 



GEORGE E. WARING, JR. 1 59 

planning to go on to Washington after a day or two of rest. 
He did not go, for immediately after landing he became fatally 
ill with yellow fever — the very disease that he had been seeking 
to blot out. By his death the United States lost one of its 
most useful men and one of its greatest heroes. 



XXVIII. 

THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. 

For weeks during the spring of 1900 American and European 
missionaries, merchants and the officials in the legations in 
China had been disturbed by rumors that an organization known 
as " The Boxers " was forming plans to destroy not only every- 
one who was not a Chinaman, but everything foreign. The 
people of the legations at Pekin paid little attention to the warn- 
ings. The Boxers were from the lower classes, seemingly un- 
organized, and without trained leaders. The government officials 
continually said that there was no need to worry: — " the Boxers 
are not soldiers. They are an undisciplined rabble who only 
practice a sort of innocent gymnastics with a view to the protec- 
tion of their own homes." The ministers had little respect 
even for a Chinese soldier, who, they laughingly said, went " to 
war with his fan in one hand, his bird cage in the other, and his 
paper umbrella over his shoulder." Surely, they thought, an 
untrained native could accomplish little. They trusted in the 
promises that the empress would " at once issue orders for 
them to disperse," and in the knowledge that in all civilized 
countries the person of an ambassador or minister is sacred. 
But China was not civilized, at least according to modern 
standards. 

The missionaries, having been longer in China and having 
come into closer contact with the people, were less confident. 
They knew that for a long time the people had been growing 
restless. How far the feeling against the foreigners went they 
were not sure, but they suspected everyone, from the empress 



THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. l6l 

who, it was well known, was intensely jealous of all foreign in- 
fluence in China, to the humblest river man. Even though they 
feared a terrible uprising, these missionaries did not leave their 
posts. Many could not go if they would, and others would not if 
they could. They knew that the anger of the Chinese was aroused 
against the native converts to Christianity as well as against all 
foreigners, and they hoped that their own presence would protect 
somewhat the people whom they had taught and helped for 
many years. 

As days went by the disturbances grew more rather than 
less. The Boxers grew bolder, and the Chinese army did noth- 
ing. Finally the ministers at Pekin asked for an additional 
guard, and four hundred and fifty marines of various nationali- 
ties were sent from the war vessels off the coast. They arrived 
none too soon. The next day railroads and telegraphs were de- 
stroyed, and all the foreigners in Pekin were left to the mercy 
of hordes of savage fanatics. Then it was found that not the 
Boxers alone, but the whole nation was in arms against civili- 
zation. 

There were many reasons for this uprising. The European 
nations had not been kind to China. The Chinese had seen 
piece after piece of their territory seized and occupied by Russia, 
by Germany, by England. They had been compelled to open 
their ports for trade and even to give them up to these same 
greedy nations. They feared that their whole country would 
be divided and would pass from their control. 

- Moreover, they looked upon everything modern with con- 
tempt and distrust. They were satisfied with the life, the cus- 
toms, the implements, the modes of travel that their ancestors 
had used a thousand years before. For generations carts and 
boats had carried all the merchandise from one part of the coun- 
try to another. When the railroad came, it accomplished in a 
few hours what had before taken weeks to do. It took away the 



1 62 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



work of thousands of river men, and whM was still worse, it dis- 
turbed the graves of their ancestors. China is everywhere a grave- 
yard, and ancestor worship is the chief part of its religion. Before 
the graves food is constantly placed, and millions of dollars of 
mock money are burned for the use of those in the spirit world. 

A railroad could 
not be laid with- 
out upturning 
some places of 
worship. A loco- 
motive was called 
a " black devil," 
and the foreigners 
who introduced it 
were intensely 
hated. 

There had been 
a long season of 
drought in China, 
and the foreigners 
were thought to 
be its cause. 
" Until all foreign- 
ers have been ex- 
terminated," a 
Boxer placard 
read, " the rain 
can never visit us." Therefore the streets rang with cries of 
" Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill the foreign devils!" With this cry 
was heard another, "Kill the secondary foreign devils! " for not 
only m ust the European and American suffer, but all who had been 
friendly to them, all who had taken their religion and become 
Christians. Everything opposed to the old Chinese ways must go. 




THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. 



163 



The disturbances were not confined to Pekin. In the coun- 
try the Chinese went about kilh'ng, and destroying property. Men 
and women who had spent a lifetime in laboring to help and 
uplift the people fled with their families and converts to the 
capital, which was thought to be the safest place in the empire. 
Place after place of refuge, legation after legation, was deserted, 




LADIES OF THE LEGATION MAKING SAND-BAGS. 

until nearly all the foreigners in the city were crowded behind 
the walls of the British legation. This place was chosen as the 
last stand because it had the largest grounds, the highest walls, 
and, above all, two wells of good water. The next two months 
saw some of the worst horrors, some of the hardest sufferings, 
some of the bravest deeds in history. 

It was found that the Chinese were not such mean fighters 
after all. Shot and shell flew over the refuge day and night. 



164 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

Not a head could appear at an opening in the walls without 
danger. Sharpshooters, stationed no one knew where, brought 
down people as they crossed the courtyard. At night no lamp 
could be lighted and hardly a match struck without furnishing 
a target. 

,To make the walls higher and stronger thousands of sand- 
bags were made. The ladies rested hardly long enough to eat, 
and worked as hard on the Sabbath as on week days. Sewing- 
machines were run constantly to make the sand-bags, and those 
who did not use a machine sewed by hand all sorts and descrip- 
tions- of materials, — rich silks, fine table-linen, beautiful muslin, 
and rough and dirty cloths. Those who were not sewing filled 
bags with sand. No one hesitated to do even this humble work. 
Mrs. Conger, the wife of the American minister, and a Russian 
priest together held bags which a Chinese convert filled. 

The force of soldiers within the legation walls was very small. 
The foreigners had guns, but no cannon. One day an old can- 
non, made long ago in England, was found unmounted in a 
Chinese shop near by. The soldiers joyfully took possession of 
it and brought it behind the fortifications, where it was lashed 
to a beam and mounted on wheels belonging to the Italian 
marines, who in their hurry to reach Pekin had left their gun 
behind. It was found that the Russians had some shells that 
would fit; the Japanese supplied the fuse and the Germans the 
powder. This international gun was wheeled into different 
positions along the wall to deceive the Chinese into thinking 
that the besieged were well supplied with arms. But it was a 
dangerous thing to handle. Each time it was fired it had to be 
relashed to the beam, and each time those near by held their 
breath, fearing it would do more harm to its friends than its 
foes. Yet in the hands of a skillful American gunner named 
Mitchell it sent terror into the hearts of the Chinese and kept 
them at a respectful distance. Mitchell was one of the heroes 



THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. 



165 



of the foreign colony. He performed the most daring deeds 
and each time escaped unhurt, until near the end of the siege, 
when he was severely wounded. 

Shot and shell were not the only dangers the besieged had 
to face. Finding that they were unable to accomplish their 




THE INTERNATIONAL GUN. 



desire with their guns, the Chinese attempted to burn out the 
foreigners. No building was too valuable to destroy. They 
even set fire to the library close by the British legation, which 
held Chinese books and documents which could never be re- 
placed. The flames carried by the wind seemed to be beyond 



l66 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

control. All within the legation walls were mustered out to 
fight the fire; women and children formed a chain to hurry on 
buckets filled with water. '* If they were not missionaries and 
ambassadors and women," said a Chinaman, " what a splendid 
fire department they would make!" But the wind changed, 
the flames were carried the other way, and the legation was 
saved. The Chinese had really hurt themselves more than the 
foreigners; the fires cleared the streets and destroyed their hid- 
ing places. 

The worst enemy was hunger. As day after day went by 
and relief did not come, the stock of provisions grew less and 
less. Rice came to be the chief food. This was sometimes 
served with" French beef," in other words, with horse flesh; 
but most preferred the rice alone. The women unselfishly gave 
up the remaining stock of canned meats to those who served 
behind the barricades, and the condensed milk had to be saved 
for the children. 

One of the ladies who had been visiting Mrs. Conger and 
had been unable to get away from Pekin had a birthday. An 
official, during a lull in the figliting, went out beyond the wall 
and found, growing near the Mongolian market, a single ear of 
corn. This he brought to Mrs. Woodward for her birthday 
feast. She passed it round for a single bite among the other 
ladies in the little house where the American minister and sev- 
eral other families were crowded. That one bite was better than 
a whole dinner of good things. " My, but it did taste good," 
recorded one in her diary. 

The children had a hard time. They grew pale and thin and 
ill. Yet they never quarreled and seldom complained, though 
one little fellow was heard to say, " We can't play in the chapel 
because you say we make too much noise.' We can't play out- 
side because you are afraid we will be shot. Where can we 
play?" The older people, as well as the children, grew in time 



TFIE SIEGE OF PEKIN. 167 

almost indifferent to the continued firing which ever afterward 
would " make lire-crackers tame." So they wrote diaries and 
letters when relieved from duty, made sketches, sat for portraits 
and sang hymns and songs, even though the women carried 
revolvers in their dresses to be used upon themselves and their 
friends if the enemy proved too strong. Anything was better 
than to fall into the hands of the Chinese. 

Attempt after attempt was made to get messsages to the 
coast. Several messengers were sent out only to be killed, 
searched or turned back. At last a Chinese boy was successful 
in reaching Tientsin. He had been let down over the walls of 
the city dressed as a beggar, and carrying a letter in the bottom 
of his porridge bowl. His bowl was broken in getting over the 
wall; he had to hide his letter as best he could; he was com- 
pelled by a farmer to serve for a week, but somehow he escaped 
being searched. Finally he reached Pekin again with cheery 
messages that help was at hand. 

A large army formed of troops of all the different nationali- 
ties was on its way to Pekin. How anxiously they were watched 
for can only be known by those who waited. All the horses and 
mules had been killed but four, the meal was nearly gone, and 
clothing was worn to shreds. The last night was the worst of 
the whole siege. The Chinese, knowing that the relief was near, 
made a last effort. They were again unsuccessful, and the next 
afternoon the troops had come and the enemy had fled. 

What will be the final result of all this upheaval in China no 
one can tell. One thing is sure. In the end it will be for the 
best good of the people. The work of the heroic men and 
women who have suffered and died there will not be in vain. 
Sometime, though, perhaps, not until after long delay and dis- 
order, China will awake and become modernized, civilized, 
Christianized. 



XXIX. 
TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 

It is almost impossible to conceive to-day what it meant 
seventy-five years ago to leave civilized America, home and 
frientis, and, after a six-months' voyage around Cape Horn, to 
take up a permanent residence and enter upon one's life-work 
in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, on what was then known as 
the Sandwich Islands. " The people were, if not in the lowest 
state of barbarism in which men are ever found, yet certainly in 
a very low state of intellectual, social and moral debasement." 
They wore very little clothing, had no comfortable dwellings, no 
written language, no courts of law or justice. Everything they 
had, their lands, their houses, their cattle, their families, be- 
longed to the chiefs, most of whom were selfish and cruel. 
When the missionaries arrived in Hawaii and saw the degrada- 
tion and barbarism of the half-naked, chattering savages who 
came out from land to the ship in their little canoes, they could 
hardly help inquiring: " Can these be human beings? Can we 
take up our abode for life among such a people? Can they be 
civilized and Christianized?" 

The life of Titus Coan shows, on the one hand, how success- 
ful the work of civilizing and Christianizing these islands has 
been, and on the other hand, what real heroism was needed to 
carry this work onward to complete success. Mr. Coan and Fidelia 
Church, bis bride of a month, left Boston for Honolulu on the 
fifth of December, 1834. They arrived at the islands, via Cape 
Horn, on the sixth of June, 1835, having been just six months 
on the voyage. They made their home at Hilo, a place on the 



TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 



169 



eastern side of the largest and most southern island, Hawaii. 
Here Mr. Coan lived, and labored heroically, forty-seven years; 
here he died on the first of December, 1882. 

He spent two years in the study of the Hawaiian language, 
which is a beautiful tongue, delightful to the ear, and acquired 
without great difficulty. It is written with twelve letters — five 
vowels and seven consonants. Rev. S. L. Desha, the present 
pastor of the church at Hilo, 
where Mr. Coan preached for 
so many years, in an address in 
Boston, in September, 1899, 
said: '*It may seem strange to 
you, but we Hawaiians think 
that our language is nearest to 
the language of heaven of any- 
thing we can know. The Greek- 
language is certainly hard to 
learn, and it is very difficult to 
understand all the ins and outs 
of your English tongue, so 
we think that our language is 
the language — the language of 
heaven." 

After Mr. Coan had mastered 
the language, he spent much 

of his time traveling over his parish, and preaching to the people 
in their native villages. Plis district covered a region over one 
hundred miles across, and it had a population of about fifteen 
thousand. Much of the land was mountainous, and there 
were no roads and no bridges. There were no horses, and all 
the journeys were raade on foot, often with great peril to life 
and limb. Often he climbed down precipices, holding fast to 
shrubs and grasses, and sometimes he was let down with ropes 




TITUS COAN. 



I/O AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

from tree to tree and from crag to crag. That part of the island 
was crossed by numerous mountain torrents, which rushed over 
slippery bowlders and poured in cataracts over the precipices. 
With the aid of a long pole, Mr. Coan could leap from rock to 
rock when the rivers were low, but when they were swollen by 
heavy rains the passage was difficult and dangerous. Some- 
times he was carried across on the broad shoulder of a native ; 
sometimes a company of strong men would lock hands and 
stretch a living line from shore to shore between him and the 
cataract, while he worked himself along from man to man. 
Sometimes, when the river was so swollen that neither of these 
methods was possible, a native carrying a rope would jump 
into the current far above the falls; then, though always borne 
down by the current nearer and nearer to the precipice, he would 
swim across to the other side and make the end of the rope fast. 
Thus, by grasping the rope with both hands, a safe passage was 
made by the rest of the company. Later, after roads had been 
made and horses were introduced, Mr. Coan's trips through his 
parish were made with less difficulty, but even then he often had 
narrow escapes from death. 

For many years Mr. Coan spent much of his time in regular 
tours round the island, organizing schools and churches, and 
acting also as the only physician the Hilo mission had. At times 
he would preach during the week only six or seven sermons, but 
frequently he would preach from twenty-five to thirty-five times 
a week. Physically he was tall and robust, and had tremendous 
energy. He was thoroughly devoted to his work, and his 
charming personal presence helped to give success to his 
labors. 

In the years 1836-37-38 a great religious revival occurred 
among the people in the vicinity of Hilo. Mr. Coan had made 
a tour of the island, and had created great interest in his preach- 
ing. On his return, his congregation continued to increase in 



f 



TITUS COAN THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 



171 



numbers and interest. Whole families and whole villages came 
to Hilo, even bringing the aged and feeble on litters, sometimes 
from a distance of thirty or fifty miles. Many remained a long 




ANCIENT HAWAIIAN IDOLS. 



time to attend the meetings. They built little cabins and booths 
to live in. They fished, and even planted potatoes and taro for 
food. Mr. Coan said: " We estimated that our population was 
increased to ten thousand souls." 



IJI AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

The house of worship was two hundred feet long and eighty- 
five feet wide, but even this large edifice could not contain the 
crowds that came to hear Mr. Coan preach. At once the natives 
went to work and built a new meeting-house. The timber was 
cut and hauled from the mountains by hand, and, wonderful to 
relate, in three weeks a building that could hold two thousand 
people was completed. Finally, on the first Sunday in July, 
1838, a great meeting was held to receive the new converts into 
the church. Mr. Coan himself thus describes this scene: 

'* The memorable morning came, arrayed in glory. A purer 
sky, a brighter sun, a serener atmosphere, a more silvery sea, 
and a more brilliant and charming landscape could not be 
desired. The very heavens over us and the earth around us 
seemed to smile. The hour came; during the time of prepara- 
tion the house was kept clear of all but the actors, in order that 
the air might be pure. With the roll in hand, the leaders of the 
classes were called in, with their companies of candidates, in the 
order of all the villages: first of Hilo district, then of Puna, last 
of Kau. From my roll the names of the first class were called 
one by one, and I saw each individual seated against the wall, 
and so the second, and so on until the first row was formed. 
Thus row after row was extended the whole length of the house, 
leaving spaces for one to pass between the lines. After every 
name had been called, and every individual recognized and 
seated, all the former members of the church were admitted and 
seated on the opposite side of the building, and the remaining 
space given to as many as could find room, 

" All being thus prepared, we had singing and prayer; then a 
word of explanation of the rite of baptism, with exhortation. 
After this, with a basin of water, I passed back and forth between 
the lines, sprinkling each individual until all, to the number of 
1,705, were baptized. Standing in the center of the congregation 
of the baptized, I pronounced these words: ' I baptize you all 



TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 



173 



into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
Ghost. Amen.' 

" The scene was one of solemn and tender interest, surpassing 
anything of the kind I had ever witnessed. All heads were bowed 
and tears fell. All was hushed except sobs and breathing." 




LAVA FLOW. 



During the year more than five thousand persons were re- 
ceived into the fellowship of the church at Hilo, and during the 
entire ministry of Mr, Coan the number reached thirteen thou- 
sand ; and between four and five thousand children were baptized. 

It must not be supposed that these ignorant people could 



174 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

throw off immediately the weight of superstition that had held 
them down for centuries. Though the gods had been overthrown 
shortly before the missionaries first came to Hawaii, the inhab- 
itants were still under the influence of the ancient belief. Near 
the center of the island of Hawaii is situated Kilauea, the largest 
active volcano in the world. The crater was supposed to be the 
abode of Pele, the terrible goddess of fire and earthquake, whom 
the natives feared long after Christianity was introduced. Among 
the early converts was Kapiolani, a woman of high rank. She 
grieved that her people should continue to fear the wrath of the 
goddess, and determined to show them that Pele was powerless. 
Isabella Bird, who visited the islands in 1873, tells the story as 
follows: Kapiolani " announced that it was her intention to visit 
Kilauea, and dare the fearful goddess to do her worst. Her hus- 
band and many others tried to dissuade her, but she was resolute, 
and, taking with her a large retinue, she made a journey of one 
hundred miles, mostly on foot, over the rugged lava, till she 
arrived near the crater. Here a priestess of Pele met her, threat- 
ened her with the displeasure of the goddess if she persisted in 
her hostile errand, and prophesied that she and her followers 
would perish miserably. Kapiolani gathered and ate the sacred 
berries, contrary to custom, and then she and her company of 
eighty persons descended to the black edge of Hale-mau-mau. 

"There, in full view of the fiery pit, she thus addressed her 
followers : 

" * Jehovah is my God. He kindled these fires. I fear not 
Pele. If I perish by the anger of Pele, then you may fear the 
power of Pele; but if I trust in Jehovah, and He saves me from 
the wrath of Pele, when I break through her ** tabus," then you 
must fear and serve the Lord Jehovah. All the gods of Hawaii 
are vain ! Great is Jehovah's goodness in sending teachers to 
turn us from these vanities to the living God and the way of 
righteousness ! ' 



TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 175 

** Then they sang a hymn. I can fancy the strange proces- 
sion winding its backward way over the cracked, hot lava sea, 
the robust behef of the princess hardly sustaining the limping 
faith of her followers, whose fears would not be laid to rest until 
they had reached the crater's rim without any signs of the pursuit 
of an avenging deity. It was more sublime than Elijah's appeal 
on the soft green slopes of Mount Carmel. But the popular be- 
lief in the goddess of the volcano survived this flagrant instance 
of her incapacity, and only died out many years afterwards." 

Kilauea lay in Mr. Coan's parish, and the natives called 
him '* the Bishop of the Volcano." He was a tireless observer 
of the eruptions of Mauna Loa and Kilauea, and his many pub- 
lished papers form the completest existing record of Hawaiian 
volcanic phenomena. 

When Mr. Coan had been in the islands less than twenty- 
five years he wrote: 

I believe that the Gospel has effected a signal triumph on 
these shores. Savagism has fled before it, never to return. 
Idolatry has fallen, never to rise again. Ignorance and supersti- 
tion have fled apace before its rising light. . . . Most of 
the people can read and write. . . . The comforts and im- 
provements of civilization are multiplied. . . . The nation 
has experienced a great civil revolution. . . . External 
morality is more generally practiced here than in most nations, 
or perhaps any nation. Nowhere on earth are life and property 
more secure. Open crimes are of rare occurrence. . . . We 
are toiling up the hill, and we may say that no savage tribes ever 
went so fast and so far in thirty-five years as the Hawaiians. " 

To bring this about, the good missionary, aided by his gentle 
and heroic wife, endured ,mri3cir~suffering, and was the hero of 
labors unsurpassed. Perhaps no man in modern times has seen 
greater results from his labors than Titus Coan saw during his 
own lifetime from his heroic services in Hawaii. 



I 



XXX. 
FATHER EELLS AND WHITMAN COLLEGE. 

In the autumn of 1847 occurred a frightful tragedy in what was 
then known as the Oregon Country. Dr. Marcus Whitman and 
a dozen other persons were cruelly massacred by the Indians at 
Whitman's station on the Walla Walla River, a branch of the 
Columbia. Dr. Whitman was a missionary to the Indians, and 
this massacre broke up the Indian missions in that entire region. 

Another missionary, who had been stationed at a point far- 
ther north, was the Rev. Cushing Eells. He and his family 
went down the river and located in the Willamette Valley. After 
some twelve years, Father Eells, as he was generally called dur- 
ing the latter part of his life, visited Whitman's old mission sta- 
tion and the great grave which contained the remains of the 
missionary, his wife and nine others. Standing there on the 
mission premises, he thought of the good work that had been 
done among the Indians, and how it had terminated. He felt 
strongly that something should be done to honor the Christian 
martyrs that had fallen there. He thought that instead of a 
monument of stone an institution of learning would best perpet- 
uate the name of Whitman. Standing there by that grave, he 
solemnly promised that he would do what he could to establish 
a seminary. 

Having obtained a charter from the Legislature of the Terri- 
tory of Washington for Whitman Seminary, he bought the old 
mission premises, which occupied a mile square of fertile land. 
In the following spring, with a borrowed yoke of oxen and his 
own pair of horses and a wagon, accompanied by his son Edwin, 



FATHER EELLS AND WHITMAN COLLEGE. 



77 



then eighteen years of age, he made the journey of about three 
hundred miles from Forest Grove to what is now Whitman 
township, in Walla Walla County, Washington. During the 
summer these two persons lived in a log house fourteen feet 
square, with the ground for a floor and a roof of logs and dirt. 
In the autumn they sold 
their crop for several hun- 
dred dollars, and returned 
to Forest Grove for the 
winter. 

The next spring the 
father and son, leaving as 
before the mother and a 
younger boy at home, 
again made the long jour- 
ney to Walla Walla, and 
again cultivated the 
ground. In the fall, when 
the crops were secured, 
there was no sale for them. 
Edwin said, ** Father, you 
go down the river and 
take care of mother and 
Myron. I will stay here 
and sell the crops. " This 
course was taken; the father returned to Forest Grove and the 
young man remained at Walla Walla through the winter. 

Edwin had his meals with a family that lived in the log hut, 
but slept during the entire winter in a large freight wagon, never 
taking off his clothes for seventy-two nights. The winter of 
1861-62 was very severe in that section. Between the Rocky 
Mountains and the Cascades the snow lay on the ground from 
December to March, and at one time the mercury fell to 29° 
12 




178 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

below zero. Nearly all the cattle died. Young Mr. Eells after- 
ward said that on one of the coldest mornings, while he was eat- 
ing his breakfast in the log cabin, the water froze in his drinking 
cup on the table. In spite of the cold and discomfort and depri- 
vation, Edwin remained at his post until he accomplished his 
purpose. The crop was sold, and he was there on the ground 
ready to begin work when the winter was over. 

In the following spring, when Father Eells was again making 
his preparations for the journey up the Columbia, his wife said, 
** You must not go alone again. It is not right for me to leave 
you and Edwin in that wild country to shift for yourselves. 
The family ought not to be so divided. If you are to go to Walla 
Walla I must go with you. We can all make our home in the 
log hut." Father Eells shrank from taking his wife and the 
younger son away from civilization, three hundred miles up the 
river into the wilderness, where there were but few white peo- 
ple, but the mother's counsel prevailed. The family moved to 
Walla Walla, where they built a better log house and estab- 
lished their home. 

Father Eells, by his own labor in cultivating the land, which 
was very productive, with the aid of his son Edwin, earned 
enough to pay for the entire property. He devoted one-half of 
the land to the seminary ; but it was thought best not to locate 
the school there, but in the growing town of Walla Walla, a 
few miles away. Six acres of land in that town were given, on 
which to build the seminary. Money was raised by subscrip- 
tion, and the first building was erected. This was a substantial 
wooden two-story building, arranged not unlike the typical New 
England village school-house. The cost of the building was more 
than had been expected, and when the seminary was dedicated, 
in spite of the subscriptions, it was in debt. Loans had been 
secured to pay these debts, but the interest was large, and as 
Mr. Eells had signed all the notes, the outlook was anything 



FATHER EELLS AND WHITMAN COLLEGE. 



79 



but promising. At one time it looked as if the building must 
soon be sold to pay the debts. 

Father Eells was not the man to surrender. It seemed as if 
nothing could discourage his heroic spirit. He taught school and 
was superintendent of schools for the county; he carried on the 
farm and raised stock; he sold cordwood ; he peddled chickens, 
eggs and the like; and Mrs. Eells, though nearly sixty years of 
age, made and 
sold four hun- 
dred pounds of 
butter. So the 
bills were paid 
and the school 
was free from 
debt. 

From time 
to time for 
nearly twenty 
years Eastern 
men were en- 
gaged as pre- 
ceptors. Then 
the seminary 

became a college, new buildings were erected, and additional 
grounds secured. To-day Whitman College, at Walla Walla, 
Washington, is one of the most flourishing institutions in the 
entire Northwest. Father Eells was president of the board of 
trustees for more than thirty years, until his death. He lived 
long enough to witness much of the rapid growth and usefulness 
of the college. 

Father Eells was always a poor man. As a missionary he 
received no salary, his expenses only, being paid by the mission- 
ary board. As a teacher his income was small, but he was 




WHITMAN MEMORIAL BUILDING. 



i8o 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



always frugal, and his personal and family wants were few and 
simple. Sometimes the entire family expense was not more 
than a hundred dollars a year. By his economy he was always 
able to save something, and personally, from first to last, he gave 
Whitman College more than ten thousand dollars, and secured 
from others a sum much larger than that, perhaps twice as large. 
John Harvard, who founded the university which bears his name, 
made at his death a bequest in its favor of a sum not half as 
large as Father Eells gave to the college that bears the name of 
his friend. 



XXXI. 

DOROTHEA DIX. 

Dorothea Lynde Dix was one of those unfortunate women 
who never knew what childhood meant. Her father paid more 
attention to the imagined needs of other people than to the com- 
fort of his own wife and children. He never remained long in one 
pursuit, but wandered restlessly from place to place. The fam- 
ily hardly knew what a home meant. They were poor, and 
often hungry; they had no friends and no educational or social 
advantages. Dorothea was very unlike her father. At an early 
age she began to fret about her little brothers, who, she real- 
ized, could never, in such surroundings, be like the happy chil- 
dren she saw around her. She knew that she could do nothing 
for them so long as she remained with them, so one day she ran 
away from home and went to Boston, where her grandmother 
lived. 

Dorothea now had a comfortable home, although very little 
more of the pleasures of childhood than in her father's house. 
Her grandparent was a stern woman who lived wholly by rule. 
In her home there was no show of affection, no idle minutes, no 
time for play, only plenty of hard work that must be done thor- 
oughly. However, Dorothea at last found the one thing for 
which she longed — an opportunity to go to school and to study. 
An education would open the way to earn the money that would 
make her mother and her little brothers comfortable. 

When only fourteen she taught her first school, and she was 
so afraid that the children would know how young she was that 
she dressed to make herself appear as old as possible. There 



l82 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

was little need of this, for she was so stern and unbending that 
the children fairly feared her. Not until much contact with the 
sufferings of others had blotted out the memory of her early 
years did Dorothea show how tender and full of love her heart 
really was. 

As time went by Miss Dix became known as a skillful teacher. 
Children were sent to her school from all parts of New England. 
She earned more than enough for her own needs and the edu- 
cation of her brothers. But she worked too hard ; her strength 
could not endure long days that began at sunrise and ended 
after midnight. She had to give up her school and spend months 
in resting and coaxing back her health. In her estimation these 
were months wasted, since there were so many duties to be per- 
formed. " No day, no hour comes," she wrote, " but brings in 
its train work to be performed for some useful end — the suffer- 
ing to be comforted, the wanderer led home, the sinner re- 
claimed. Oh ! how can any fold the hands to rest and say to 
the spirit, ' Take thine ease, for all is well.' " 

Before she really recovered, her attention was called to a 
great evil, to the remedying of which she ever afterward de- 
voted her life. To one of the students at the theological school 
at Cambridge had been assigned the duty of teaching on Sunday 
the women in the East Cambridge House of Correction. He 
soon came to the conclusion that a woman could do them more 
good than a man. He went to Miss Dix for advice, and she 
said, " I will take them myself." Mr. Nichols attempted to 
persuade her that her health would not permit, but she stopped 
him with the determined answer, " I shall be there next Sun- 
day." 

After the service that Sunday her attention was called to the 
pitiable condition of several insane persons who were shut up in 
the jail. Their room had no fire, they were half clothed, and 
they looked neglected and abused. 



DOROTHEA DIX. I83 

The insane were everywhere treated with great cruelty,- 
though at this time Miss Dix did not know it. Insanity had 
never been considered a disease. Those affected by it were sup- 
posed to be possessed of evil spirits, and, having been thus given 
up to demons, they were treated as outcasts. The church cursed 
them, and police of^cers put them in prison as no better than 
thieves and murderers. If they became violent they were caged 
like wild beasts. In fact, in England residents of the city used 
to take their country friends to the jails to see the ravings of 
these unfortunate creatures. Guests and hosts considered this 
the choicest kind of entertainment. 

The time had not yet come when disease of any kind excited 
compassion or received relief and help. The strong and the 
powerful ruled, and they had not learned that it was manly to 
help the weak. Only within the fifty years before Miss Dix first 
visited the Cambridge jail had people grown humane enough to 
realize that '' the insane man is not an inexplicable monster," 
but that " he is only one of ourselves." Then it was proved 
that chains and iron cages and neglect could only make the 
patient worse, while kindness and care often brought about a 
cure. Insanity needed the same thoughtful attention as any 
other disease, but it took many years of continual agitation to 
convince people that it was their duty to care for the insane who 
had no friends and no means. 

Miss Dix could not rest until she had brought the condition 
of the insane inmates of the Cambridge jail to the attention of 
the proper authorities. They granted her request that they be 
given a fire, though their keeper declared it an unwise and 
dangerous thing to do. Then she began to wonder if the rule 
in Cambridge was the rule in other places in Massachusetts. She 
was not content with having justice done in one place. She set 
out on a journey of investigation ; she visited every prison and 
almshouse in the state; she would not rely on hearsay; she 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



saw everything herself, no matter how revolting it might be. 
Her discoveries are too dreadful to relate. The Cambridge jail 
was not the exception, unless because it was better than the rest. 
On her return to Boston she petitioned the Legislature of the 

state to remedy 
these great 
evils. '* Men 
of Massachu- 
setts, I beg, I 
implore, I de- 
mand, pity and 
protection for 
these," she 
wrote. " Put 
away the cold, 
calculating; 
spirit of selfish- 
ness; lay off 
the armor of 
local strife and 
political oppo- 
sition. 

Your action 
upon this subject will affect the present and 
future condition of thousands." 

People were shocked at the conditions 
that she faithfully portrayed; they declared 
that her stories were inventions; keepers 
of jails and almshouses said that they were lies; Miss Dix 
was called a busybody, prying into places where no woman 
had any business to be. But it was found that she had 
told only the truth. Friends came to her support. Her 
petition went through the Legislature. Asylums and hospitals 




A Vlhll ro A TRISON. 



DOROTHEA DIX. 1 85 

were built, and from one state at least was removed a great 
disgrace. 

Miss Dix was not satisfied with her success in Massachusetts. 
The sufferings of the unfortunate must be the same in other 
states, and " what, in the way of relief, is one little drop in such 
an ocean of misery?" She felt that she had been called to a 
mission, and her nature would not permit her to turn aside from 
anything she thought to be a duty. She ferreted out the evils 
in other localities, state by state, and compelled the people to 
give them a hearing and find a remedy. North, south, east and 
west she traveled, and everywhere a reform followed her 
coming. 

Other countries besides America were benefited by her labors. 
While resting in England, she went to Scotland on a pleasure 
trip, but she could not " close her eyes to the condition of these 
most helpless of all God's children " — the insane. Previous at- 
tempts to arouse the conscience of the Scots had been all una- 
vailing, and friends told Miss Dix that she could do no good, 
and that her interference would be regarded as an impertinence. 
She could. not be turned aside. She studied the houses of 
detention as thoroughly as she had done in America, and so 
vigorously brought the matter before the English government 
that a commission was appointed to investigate the state of the 
asylums in Scotland. 

From Scotland Miss Dix visited the asylums of the Channel 
Islands, of France, Italy, Greece, and even Turkey. In Rome 
she sought and gained an audience with the Pope, and so won 
his sympathy that he promised to make a personal investiga- 
tion of the asylums near the Vatican. Like other rulers, he 
acknowledged his gratification at the work she had already 
done, and warmly thanked her, " a woman and a Protestant, for 
crossing the seas to call to his attention, as Chief Shepherd of 
the sheep, these cruelly entreated members of his flock." 



l86 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

" And did you really kneel down and kiss his hand? " some 
of her friends used to ask. 

" Most certainly I did," she replied. ** I revered him for his 
saintliness." 

This was a time before women had gone out into the world 
to vie with men in the struggle for existence. Many thought 
that Miss Dix must be unwomanly, and were prejudiced against 
her ; but when they came in contact with her, few could withstand 
her enthusiasm and her rich, sweet voice. One lady who after- 
ward became her firm friend tells how her prejudice was turned 
to admiration. Her husband came up to the nursery where 
she was at work one day and said that Miss Dix was below. 
She declined to go down, but was told that ** Miss Dix had 
come to stay all night," and would like to see her " in the 
nursery!" ** I thought it an unceremonious proceeding; did 
not like a woman who went about as self-appointed critic! She 
made her appearance, and one look at that calm, gentle face had 
its effect." 

When in Rhode Island Miss Dix called on Mr. Cyrus Butler to 
ask a subscription. Mr. Butler had never been known to give 
anything for charity. He was very wealthy, and seemed to care 
only to add more dollars to his many. He tried to put her off, 
but finally was compelled by her gentle insistence to listen to 
her tale. At last he asked, " Miss Dix, what do you want me 
to do?" 

" Sir, I want you to give $50,000 toward the enlargement of 
the insane hospital in this city." 

" Madam, I'll do it," he answered. And the great Butler 
Hospital was the result. 

At another time, after she had spent hours trying to con- 
vince members of the New Jersey Legislature, a rough country- 
man rose and said : 

" Ma'am, I bid you good night! I do not want, for my part. 



DOROTHEA DIX. 18/ 

to hear anything more ; the others can stay if they want to. I 
am convinced. You have conquered me out and out. I shall 
vote for the hospital. If you'll come to the House and talk 
there as you have done here, no man that isn't a brute can 
withstand you, and so, when a man's convinced, that's enough." 

Even the children could not withstand her. They eagerly 
gave their toys to amuse the poor insane people of whom she 
could tell so many stories. Oftentimes, after she had gone, it 
is to be feared, they were sorry because they had parted with 
some cherished toy, and it is told that sometimes when children 
heard that Miss Dix was to visit the house they hurriedly hid 
their most valued possessions lest they should give them away 
under the influence of her enthusiasm. 

One secret of Miss Dix's power was that she was always pre- 
pared for any emergency. When traveling she provided herself 
with nails, pieces of rope and straps, lest in crossing a ford or 
riding down a rough road the wagon or the harness should give 
way. So thoroughly had she studied her cause, and so sure was 
she of its justice, that when presenting it she was able to give 
facts and reasons that would destroy every adverse argument. 
Thoroughness and devotion were two secrets of her success. 

We must not suppose that this was an easy work for Miss 
Dix to undertake. She was thoroughly womanly, with all a 
true woman's dislike for publicity and with a repugnance for 
anything that was coarse or repulsive. She disliked the politi- 
cians with whom she was forced to come in contact. She was 
very sensitive, and must have been deeply hurt by the abuse 
that frequently came to her. But she would not acknowledge 
that she knew the word " failure," and she often said, " The 
tonic I need is the tonic of opposition. That always sets me on 
my feet." So ** over the whole length and breadth of the land 
are her footsteps, and where she steps, flowers of the richest 
odor of humanity are sprouting and blooming, as on an angel's 



i88 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



path." Yet she would not speak of her success, and to the last 
would allow no one to write the story of her life. 

When the last years came, she who had provided a home for 
so many had no home to go to. Then the asylum that she had 
founded in Trenton, New Jersey, invited her to make her home 
there. A few cheery rooms were set apart for her use, and there 
she was tenderly cared for during the rest of her life. 

At one time, when wanting an inscription to be placed on a 
fountain, she wrote to John Greenleaf Whittier for the transla- 
tion of an Arabic inscription that had attracted her. Not being 
able to remember the words, he sent her the following lines, 
which show a just appreciation of Dorothea Dix's humble spirit: 

" Stranger and traveler ! 

Drink freely and bestow 
A kindly thought on her. 

Who bade this fountain flow ; 
Yet hath for it no claim. 

Save as the minister, 
Of blessing in God's name." 



XXXII. 
CLARA BARTON. 

Clara Barton is universally regarded, both in Europe and 
in America, as the " guardian angel " of the sick and the dis- 
tressed. Others may hesitate or refuse to listen, but she ever 
heeds the cry for help. Age, ill-health, discomforts, dangers are 
forgotten whenever war or disaster brings suffering. Though 
intensely patriotic, her sympathy is wide enough to include the 
world. She hastened as eagerly to the relief of the persecuted 
Christians of Armenia and the starving reconcentrados of Cuba 
as of the homeless people of Galveston. 

So well does the world appreciate her devotion that at the 
third Geneva Conference of Red Cross workers the assembly 
with great applause voted that ''Mademoiselle Barton bien nitrite 
de r humanity." This is the highest expression of honor that 
the French language can give, and means in English, " Miss 
Barton deserves praise from the whole human race." Yet with 
all of her honors and all her public services she is a most humble 
woman. She is too busy helping the people to talk about her 
work. She lets her deeds speak for her; she will not praise her- 
self. 

Clara Barton's childhood, until she was eleven years old, was 
as uneventful as that of most New England children. Then her 
oldest brother fell from a building and was so seriously injured 
that for two years he was a helpless invalid. Clara then first 
showed her self-sacrificing and unselfish nature. She gave up 
her play and spent her time in amusing and waiting upon her 
brother, and he in a very short time preferred the services of the 



190 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



child to those of any of the grown people of the family. Pier 
patience never ended, and her feet seemed untiring. 

Early in her young womanhood she went on a visit to Bor- 
dentown, New Jersey, a rough manufacturing town. To her 
great surprise she found that the town had no public school. 
The authorities had attempted many times to open a school, but 
so many teachers had been turned out that the officials de- 
spaired of finding any one who could control the children. So 

the school had been given up and 
the children roamed the streets. 

Miss Barton was distressed at 
their wildness. One day she went 
to the authorities and offered to 
open a school. They laughed at 
her — a woman attempting to un- 
dertake a task in which men had 
failed ! Though they refused to 
help her, they could not discour- 
age her. She next tried to enlist 
the help of the parents. A few 
were sympathetic, and again she 
went to the authorities, offering 
to serve three months without pay if they would allow her to 
open a school. They still were doubtful of her ability, but they 
consented to provide a building. 

The first morning six children came, and these six found 
school a delightful place. Others, hearing their enthusiastic 
reports, thought that they, too, might like school. Attending 
school quickly became the fashion, and at the end of the first 
month the building could not hold all who wanted to come. 
Miss Barton did not accomplish this marvelous result without 
long hours of hard thought and work. Her health could not 
stand the strain, but before she resigned a large building for 




^G> Oyrfcn^^ 



CLARA BARTON. 



91 



grade classes had been built, and there were six hundred pupils 
in the school. 

It always has seemed Miss Barton's lot to undertake tasks 
that others could not or would not do. A slight incident illus- 
trates this. Miss Barton was riding in a street-car from her 
home at Glen Echo, about six miles out of Washington; she 
was on her way to Cuba, and her arms were filled with packages. 
An accident happened, and the car stopped in a gully full of 
mud. The conductor's polite request that the passengers would 
go out was answered by complaints and grumblings. Miss 
Barton was the oldest woman in the car, but she gathered up 
her bundles and went out, saying, " This seems but a little 
thing to complain of. Follow me." To step out into the mud 
might well seem a" little thing" to one who had undertaken so 
many great things, but she showed the same willingness to do 
what others hesitated to do, as when during the Civil War she 
went to Morris Island. 

" How could you expose your life and health to that terrible 
heat? " some one asked. 

" Why, the other women thought they could not endure the 
climate, and as I knew somebody must take care of the soldiers, 
I went." 

In her work at the Patent Office in Washington she also suc- 
ceeded where others failed. The records and books in this office 
were in great confusion, and Miss Barton was appointed to 
straighten them out. At that time very few women held any- 
thing but subordinate positions, and the clerks resented having 
a woman placed over them. They determined to make her life 
so uncomfortable that she would be compelled to resign. Morn^- 
ing after morning as she passed through the long corridor on the 
way to her office she walked between two lines of whistling, 
staring men. They little knew Miss Barton's character if they 
thought she would be turned aside by impertinence. They next 



192 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

tried slander, but the superintendent, hearing of it, dismissed 
the slanderers and filled their places with women. Miss Barton 
had little trouble after this, and she held her position, except 
for a short interval, until the Civil War broke out. 

When the soldiers began to march through Washington she 
gave up her place at the Patent Office to work for them. At 
first she contented herself with caring for their needs while they 
were quartered at the capital, but she kept wishing she might go 
to the front — not to the hospitals, but to the battle-fields. She 
was uncertain how the soldiers would receive her, so when she 
was called home to see her sick father she talked with him about 
it. 

" Go," he said, " if you feel it your duty to go. I know 
what soldiers are, and I know that every true soldier will respect 
you and your errand." 

She spent her own savings freely in procuring medicines and 
supplies. Her friends remonstrated, but she replied, " What is 
money to me if I have no country? If I return I can earn my 
living. If I do not, it is no matter." 

Miss Barton always had what others did not have. She 
seemed to be able to find hidden stores for which others searched 
in vain, and her thoughtfulness provided what others had for- 
gotten. On the field she was fearless. While the battle raged 
she supplied the men with gruel, carrying it to them in buckets. 
Her face grew black and her throat parched, but she kept to her 
work as long as she was needed. At another time, being urged 
to leave because there was to be a bombardment, she scornfully 
replied, '* Do you think I will leave here during a bombard- 
ment? " Where the heaviest fighting was, there she was needed 
the most. 

Just before the battle of Fredericksburg a mortally wounded 
ofificer was brought to her. He was a Confederate, but that 
made no difference; she tended him as carefully as though he 



CLARA BARTON. I93 

were a friend, and not a foe. She won his heart as easily as she 
had won the hearts of the Union troops, and when a request 
came for her to go into the town he begged her not to go. She 
said that she must. " Lady," he whispered, " you have been 
very kind to me. You could not save my life, but you have 
endeavored to render death easy. I owe it to you to tell you 
what a few hours ago I would have died sooner than have re- 
vealed. Every street and lane of the city is covered by our 
cannon ; not a regiment will be allowed to escape. Do not go 
over, for you will go to certain death." Miss Barton stayed 
with him until he died, then she hurried to her post and re- 
mained with the troops all through that terrible battle. Though 
the men fell by thousands, she stayed with them until the order 
for retreat came, and the last wounded soldier had crossed the 
river. 

Not only was she the soldiers' nurse in the hospital and on 
the field, but she was their friend as well. Many men blessed 
her for pointing out the difference between right and wrong. 
One day after a battle a company of soldiers brought her an ex- 
pensive carpet. 

** What is this for ? " she asked. 

" It is for you, ma'am. You have been so good to us we 
wanted to bring you something," one of the men answered. 

Where did you get it? " she demanded. 

The men were puzzled by her sternness, but one replied, 

** Oh, ma'am, we confiscated it." 

" No, no," said Miss Barton. " Governments confiscate. 
Soldiers steal when they take such things. I am afraid, my 
men, that you will have to take the carpet back to the house 
from which you took it. I cannot receive a stolen carpet." 

When the war was over Miss Barton spent some time hunt- 
ing up missing men, marking their graves, and sending letters to 
their friends. When her health broke down from her long labors 
13 



194 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM, 



she went for a rest to Europe. While there she became inter- 
ested in the Red Cross organization. 

This society had been formed a few years before, and most 
European nations had signed a treaty recognizing it. The object 
of the society is to make neutral all hospital supplies and at- 
tendants on the battle-field. Wherever the white flag with its 
red cross flies, that place is to be sacred ; no gun can be fired in 
that direction. All nations who enter into the treaty promise to 
care for all wounded, friend and foe alike. Miss Barton instantly 

sy m p athized 
with the move- 
ment, seeing 
how much it 
could accom- 
plish by system- 
atic methods 
that permitted 
'* no mistakes, 
no needless suf- 
fering, no waste, 
no confusion." 

When the 
war broke out 
in the service of 
the Red Cross, and when at last she returned to America it 
was with the determination to get the United States to join the 
European nations in signing the treaty. She worked many years 
before she succeeded. The public was not interested in a move- 
ment that had to do with war alone, for the United States was 
not at war, and there was no prospect of war. 

As soon as Miss Barton became the head of the American 
Red Cross Society, she showed that the organization was equally 
useful in times of peace. When the Charleston earthquake oc- 




A RED CROSS NURSE ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 



between Germany and France she enlisted 



CLARA BARTON. 



195 



curred Miss Barton and the "Red Cross" were the first to 
respond. After the Johnstown flood, after fires in the West, 
after a West Indian cyclone had devastated the coast islands of 
South Carolina, after the Galveston disaster, the Red Cross 
nurses were quickly at hand. At their headquarters supplies of 
all kinds are constantly kept ready for instant call, and the pub- 
lic always has a safe agent to distribute their gifts. Thus valu- 
able time and much suffering are saved. 

When the Spanish war broke out, Miss Barton, though nearly 
seventy years old, went to Cuba. Many women would consider 
that after such a long life of labor they had earned a right to 
rest. But she can never rest so long as there is an opportunity 
for her to help and to serve. For her sacrificing forgetfulness 
of self thousands have blessed her in the years that are passed, 
and thousands still will bless her during the years to come. 



XXXIII. 
BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. 

In the various chapters of this book we have portrayed 
different kinds of heroism. We have seen how the soldier and 
the sailor in their love for country forget themselves when there 
is need for special service; we have learned how firemen, rail- 
road men, and others who occupy posts of danger gladly do 
more than their required duty to save and protect life; we have 
heard how men and women sacrifice ease and comfort, and even 
life itself, to help the suffering and the oppressed. But, after 
all, the highest type of heroism is moral heroism, and the high- 
est type of moral heroism is suffering for the sake of principle. 

Through all the ages and in all countries there have been 
moral heroes who have borne severe physical suffering rather 
than deny what they believed to be the truth. In our day and 
in our country we have freedom of speech and liberty of con- 
science. So long as a man does not interfere with the rights of 
others he may hold such opinions as he pleases; but this was 
not always so. In the olden times if a man expressed opinions 
that were contrary to those generally held by other people, he 
risked punishment, imprisonment and death. Freedom to believe 
as one chooses is one of the great blessings of modern times, and 
its growth and development belong largely to our own country. 
But even in this land of freedom, liberty of conscience was not 
always granted, as this story will show. 

The Quakers, or Friends as they were frequently called, 
were peace men ; they believed that all war and bloodshed were 
contrary to Christianity. They had often been persecuted in 



BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. I97 

England because they refused to aid the government in time of 
war, and so when William Penn founded the Quaker colony of 
Philadelphia he decreed not only that there should be religious 
freedom in the settlement, but that no one should be molested 
because of his opinions on religious and civil matters. Reports 
of Penn's liberality traveled rapidly over Europe, and produced 
a great sensation, especially in Germany, where many people 
held doctrines similar to those of the Friends. Many of these 
Germans who believed in this " Gospel of Peace " emigrated to 
Pennsylvania, and among them was Christopher Sower and his 
little three-year-old son, also named Christopher. 

Christopher Sower was a man of good education. He had 
been graduated from the University of Berlinburg, and had 
studied medicine at Halle.. He made his home in Germantown, 
now a part of Philadelphia, where he built a large mansion. 
This house was frequently used as a meeting-house, since the 
upper story had movable partitions, which allowed the entire 
floor to be transformed into one large room. 

The Germans in America had great difificulty in getting any 
kind of reading matter that they could read, because most of 
the books brought into the colonies came from England and 
were printed in English. At an early date Christopher Sower 
imported from Germany a complete printing-press and printers' 
materials, with which he printed almanacs and other reading 
matter for the use of the German population of Pennsylvania 
and the other colonies. 

Not long after receiving this press Sower felt a great desire 
to print an edition of the Bible. He was greatly troubled by 
the growing disregard of the younger Germans for religion, and 
he felt that if they could purchase Bibles more easily they would 
be kept closer to the faith of their fathers. Hitherto no edition 
of the Bible had been printed in America in any of the lan- 
guages of Europe. John Eliot, the Puritan missionary to the 



198 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



Indians, about a hundred years earlier, had translated into the 
Indian language and printed at Cambridge an edition of the 
Bible, but no English or German Bible had been printed in this 
country before Christopher Sower published his edition in 1743. 
Indeed, no English Bible was ever printed in America until after 




BISHOP SOWER GIVING BREAD TO THE POOR. 



the close of the American Revolution, because it was contrary 
to English law to print an English Bible in these colonies. 

But this chapter has to do particularly with the son, Chris- 
topher Sower, who was three years old when his father emigrated 
to America. In his boyhood he was quiet and retiring, fond of 
study, loved and respected by all. His education was directed 
by that famous and wise teacher, Christopher Dock, of whom it 
has been said that his notions of education and methods of 



BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. I99 

teaching were " in many respects as advanced as those of the 
present day." He certainly was a man remarkable for foresight 
in his profession. 

When the young Christopher grew to manhood he became a 
minister of the German Baptist Society called Dunkers, and 
when he was just past thirty years of age he was made a bishop 
in that church. He also continued his father's printing business, 
and issued a second and a third edition of the large quarto Bible. 

The test of his devotion to the principles which he so strongly 
believed came upon the doctrine of peace and his opposition to 
all kinds of war. His faith was tried to the utmost; his wealth 
was taken away, his reputation and even his life were threatened 
on account of them. These trials came during the period of the 
American Revolution. He was at that time nearly sixty years < 
old, and his beard and hair, worn long in accordance with the 
practice of the clergy among the Dunkers, gave him a venerable 
appearance. 

He did not support the cause of England, but he opposed 
the progress of the war, because he believed that all war was 
wrong. Yet he did not carry his opposition so far as to prevent 
his being kind to the patriot soldiers and their families. Long 
years after his death he was spoken of as " the bread father," 
because of his liberal gifts of bread and provisions to suffering 
families. His generosity, however, did not prevent many of the 
colonists from regarding him with suspicion and distrust. He 
was accused of being a traitor and a spy, and was seized and 
placed under arrest. 

" On May 23, 1778, at ten o'clock at night," he wrote, '' a 
number of soldiers surrounded the house and took me from my 
bed. The night was very dark, and as I could not proceed fast 
enough for them they repeatedly prodded me with their bay- 
onets. The next day they stripped me entirely naked, but 
finally gave me an old shirt and ragged breeches, which scarcely 



200 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



covered my shame, cut off my hair and beard, and smeared me 
over with red and black paint. They led me thus, bareheaded 
and barefooted, before the provost, and accused me of being a 
spy. On the morning of the twenty-seventh God moved the 
heart of General Muhlenberg to inquire concerning me, and he 

sent word that I should ap- 
peal to General Washing- 
ton. This I did, and 
thanks to Divine Provi- 
dence, through the kind 
assistance of General Miih- 
lenberg I was released, 
but not allowed to return 
to Germantown for a full 
month." 

Two months after his 
first arrest he was again 
seized because he had not 
complied with a proclama- 
tion of which he had never 
heard. All his property 
was taken except the 
clothes upon his back. 
I asked permission," he 
said, '* to keep a few 
medicines, for the use of 
my family, especially cer- 
tain preparations of my father's and my own, but I was refused. 
I received notice to quit my house, and was obliged to 
leave it." 

The following month the Government sold his personal 
property, comprising his printing establishment, his stock 
of sheets, books and merchandise, furniture, etc., together 




THE SECOND ARREST OF BISHOP SOWER. 



BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. 201 

with his real estate, including house, farms and mills, though 
there was a legal restriction that confiscated real estate should 
not be sold until the youngest son had attained the age of 
twenty-one years. " Even their own council admitted that if 
I had not forfeited my life I had not forfeited my estate or 
property." 

Though he was reduced to poverty, he bore all with quiet 
resignation. He clung to the principles of his religion, which 
forbade him to resist evil or to make' use of the courts of law. 
Therefore, though he had been unlawfully deprived of his rights 
and property, he refused to bring a suit to recover them. He 
accepted the loss of all his property as a ** Heavenly dispensa- 
tion and trial from God," but he was sorely troubled that his 
good name should be soiled by such an atrocious epithet as 
traitor. He had done nothing to justify this odious accusation, 
and the government never attempted to prove it, but neither 
did they offer to clear him of it. In a paper presented to the 
Assembly of his brethren in faith he quietly asked : " If a man is 
openly declared a traitor, without cause, without a hearing or 
trial, when he was not absent and might have been heard, is it 
just to let him remain forever under that reproach? " It must 
not be supposed that Washington or any high military or civil 
authority was involved in this strange persecution of Bishop 
Sower, for it was all done by the small military powers of the 
locality. 

Christopher Sower never made any attempt to recover his 
property or his standing, but passed the remainder of his life, six 
years, in a small house which had been unoccupied by the owner, 
who kindly allowed him to have a shelter in it. He worked 
with his own hands at bookbinding, and thus provided himself 
with enough money to supply his simple needs. Two weeks 
before his death he walked twelve miles and preached at a meet- 
ing of his brethren, returning on foot the same day. He had 



202 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

passed a blameless life of more than three score years. " Strange 
that it should befall him, the sage, the philosopher, and 
above all the defender of the supremacy of love and sympathy 
for all men, to endure the whole weight of a wicked, malevo- 
lent persecution, as though he were a convict proven guilty of 
crime." 



I 



XXXIV. 
HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. 

Among the many heroic and patriotic sons of South Caroh'na, 
Henry Laurens easily takes high rank. He was a man of wealth, 
integrity and wisdom. He had a fine personal presence, and 
was a dignified and courteous gentleman. When he was a young 
man he lived several years in London, learning to be a merchant, 
and for more than twenty-five years he managed a large mercan- 
tile business in Charleston, South Carolina. He then retired 
from business, and again went to England, where he resided 
some years; and later he traveled in Europe, devoting himself 
to the education of his sons. When the troubles between 
the American colonies and England began, he came home and 
did everything he could to preserve peace between the two 
countries, but when King George paid no attention to petitions 
from this country, Henry Laurens threw off allegiance to Great 
Britain and became an ardent patriot. 

In the dark and gloomy summer of 1780 Henry Laurens was 
appointed minister to Holland. Congress wished him to borrow 
money in Holland and elsewhere in Europe to help carry on the 
war. He was acquainted with many of the leading men of 
Europe, and was held in high esteem by all. He sailed from 
Philadelphia in the packet Mercury, and had not been on the 
sea many days before he was captured by a British man-of-war 
and sent as a prisoner to England. After a hasty examination 
he was committed to the Tower of London on " suspicion of 
high treason." There in that ancient prison, seven centuries 
old, he was confined for a year and three months in two small 



204 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



rooms, which together would measure about twenty feet square. 
During this long period his treatment was by no means creditable 
to the British government. 

The jailer's orders concerning him were strict and severe. He 
was to be confined as a close prisoner; to be locked up every 
night; to be in the custody of two wardens, who were not to 

suffer him to be out of their 
sight one moment, day or 
night, nor allow him to speak 
privately with any person. He 
was not given the use of pen 
and ink; no letters could be 
brought to him, nor were any 
allowed to go from him. 

At one time Mr. Laurens 
said to his jailer: "When- 
ever I caught a bird in Amer- 
ica I furnished a cage and 
victuals for it," but he, dur- 
ing the whole period while a 
prisoner, was compelled to 
find his own food, fuel, bed- 
ding, and even candles, and 
_Q:^^^/^^^y.^^^^^n<^ OAf^ also to pay rent. He was 

ill much of the time, but no 
medical attendance was provided, nor did he have any of the 
ordinary comforts of a sick-room. 

Richard Oswald, who afterward, with Mr. Laurens, signed 
the treaty of peace between the United States and Great Brit- 
ain, and other leading English statesmen, used their utmost 
endeavors to secure his release, but without success. Sometimes 
they made proposals to Mr. Laurens which he resented with 
much spirit. At one time it was said to him that if he would 




HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. 20$ 

write " two or three lines to the ministers," and merely say that 
" he was sorry for what is past," a pardon would be granted. 
When advised to '* take time and weigh the matter properly in 
his mind," he instantly replied, " An honest man requires no 
time to give an answer when his honor is concerned." 

In the spring of 1781 his son John, a distinguished patriot 
and a hero of many brave deeds, was made special minister to 
France. Mr. Laurens was told that his son's appointment would 
be very injurious to his interests. Mr. Oswald advised him to 
urge his son to withdraw from the French court, but he replied 
that his son was of age and had a will of his own ; that he was a 
man of honor, and that while he loved his father dearly and 
would give his life for him, he would not sacrifice his honor to 
save his father's life, and that as his father he applauded him 
for it. 

When he had been in the prison a full year the governor of 
the Tower sent a man to collect from him £<^J los. as due to the 
two wardens for one year's attendance upon the prisoner. This 
claim was so ridiculous that Mr. Laurens could not help reply- 
ing with cutting satire : 

" This is the most extraordinary attempt I ever heard of! It 
is enough to provoke me to change my lodgings. I was sent to 
the Tower by the Secretaries of State, without money in my 
pockets (for aught they knew). Their lordships have never sup- 
plied me with a bit of beef or a bit of bread, nor inquired how 
or whether I subsisted. It is upwards of three months since I 
informed their lordships the fund which had, up to that time, 
supported me was nearly exhausted. I humbly prayed for leave 
to draw a bill on Mr. John Nutt, a London merchant who is in- 
debted to me, which they have been pleased to refuse by the 
most grating of all denials, a total silence; and now, sir, when 
it is known to everybody that I have no money, a demand of 
this nature is made for £()'] los. ! If their lordships will permit 



206 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



me to draw for money when it is due, I will continue to pay my 
own expenses, so far as respects myself; but if I were possessed 
of as many guineas as would fill this room, I would not pay the 
wardens, whom I never employed, and whose attendance I shall 
be glad to dispense with. Attempts, sir, to tax men without 
their own consent, have involved this kingdom in a bloody seven- 
years' war. Upon the whole, sir, be pleased to deliver to the 




THE TOWER OF LONDON, 



governor my answer: 'The demand or application you have 
made appears to me to be extraordinary and unjust, and I will 
not comply with it.' " 

Somehow an account of this transaction got into the London 
newspapers. Many people refused to believe it, but the story 
was clearly shown to be true. The idea of the prisoner's chang- 
ing his lodgings greatly amused the people of London. His 
treatment was so severe, and his health so poor, that when some 
account of his wretched condition and want of proper care ap- 



HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. 20/ 

peared in the public prints, so much fault was found with the 
government that the ministry were much alarmed. Governor 
Gore, who was in command of the Tower, was told that " if Mr. 
Laurens should die you will be indicted, for he has been neg- 
lected." The governor was greatly disturbed, and coming at 
once to Mr. Laurens, offered to send to the Secretaries of State 
any message which he should be pleased to write to them. Mr. 
Laurens replied: 

" The Secretaries of State, sir, do not want information; it 
is upwards of four months since they received my representation 
and prayer for the use of pen and ink, to draw a short bill for 
money. I have also been a man in authority, Governor Gore; 
I have treated British prisoners in a very different way from 
that which I have experienced. Their lordships have been fully 
acquainted with my conduct by British officers, and can give 
proof of this. I thought myself an humble man before I came 
here, but I now find I had mistaken myself. I am one of the 
proudest men upon earth ; I will not condescend to apply to 
their lordships again. The governor withdrew, and looked as 
if he was of my opinion, that I was a very proud and saucy chap. 
I was neither; I spoke not my own, but a language becoming 
the dignity of the United States. I was very sick; this is truth; 
but I was in no danger of starving. I might have had as much 
money as I wanted from Mr. Oswald or Mr. Manning; the lat- 
ter had a considerable balance of mine in hand. I had a large 
sum deposited in France, but I resolved to compel their lord- 
ships either to make proper provision for me, or to allow me the 
use of pen and ink to draw upon John Nutt, on whom only would 
I draw. In the evening the governor returned ; said the secre- 
taries had considered I should have the use of pen and ink. The 
next morning, October 30th, pen and ink were brought me, and 
taken away again the moment I had finished a draft on Mr. 
Nutt for fifty guineas. The bill was paid." 



208 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

On the 25th of November, 1781, the news reached London 
that Cornwallis with his entire army had surrendered to Wash- 
ington. The dispatch was quickly carried to' the residence of 
Lord North. " The Prime Minister," said Germain, " received 
the news as he would have received a cannon ball in the breast. 
He threw his arms apart, he paced wildly up and down the room 
in the greatest agitation, exclaiming, * It is all over! It is all 



over 



After this the ministers were anxious to get rid of Mr. Lau- 
rens, but did not know how to bring about his release. He 
would not accept a pardon, and he could not be exchanged as a 
prisoner of war, because the charge against him was treason. 
The great Edmund Burke used all his influence in behalf of the 
prisoner, at first to mitigate the severity of his treatment, and 
afterward to secure his release. Mr. Laurens would not consent 
to any act which implied that he was a British subject. Finally 
it was proposed that he should be released on bail. In the 
document which was prepared to meet the case were the words, 
** Our Sovereign Lord, the King." When these were read to 
Mr. Laurens, he replied in open court, " Not my sovereign." 

At one time the Duke of Richmond remarked to him, " Sup- 
pose we were to grant your country independence." " Grant, 
my Lord Duke! We Jiave independence. Who can take it 
from us? Great Britain may, if she pleases, acknowledge it." 
The Duke paused a moment and then said, " Well, Mr. Lau- 
rens, I will not dispute about a word. I will say acknowledge.'* 

Mr. Laurens was released on bail, to appear at court at the 
next Easter term. When the time for the court drew near he 
was discharged from all obligations to attend, and permitted, 
and in fact requested, to go to the Continent. He was startled 
at the idea of this clear release without an exchange, for he had 
always held himself to be a prisoner of war. Hence he replied 
" that he did not dare accept himself as a gift; and that as Con- 



HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. 209 

gress had once offered Lieutenant-General Burgoyne for him, 
he had no doubt of their now giving Lieutenant-General Earl 
Cornwallis for the same purpose." 

He was finally released, and went over to Paris. He was 
appointed one of the commissioners for the treaty of peace, and 
on the 30th of November, 1782, that treaty was made out and 
signed by five persons. The first signer represented the Govern- 
ment of Great Britain and the others the United States. The 
names were: Richard Oswald, John Adams, B. Franklin, John 
Jay and Henry Laurens. 
14 



XXXV. 

FARMER STEDMAN. 

The following charming story was published in Boston 
nearly seventy-five years ago, in a magazine called The Token. 
It is so beautiful in itself, and the story is so well told, that it is 
copied here entire. 

" During the period of the war of the Revolution, there re- 
sided, in the western part of Massachusetts, a farmer by the name 
of Stedman. He was a man of substance, descended from a very 
respectable English family, well educated, and distinguished for 
great firmness of character in general, and alike remarkable for 
inflexible integrity and steadfast loyalty to his king. Such was 
the reputation he sustained, that, even when the most violent 
antipathies against royalism swayed the community, it was still 
admitted on all hands, that Farmer Stedman, though a Tory, 
was honest in his opinions, and firmly believed them to be right. 

" The period came when Burgoyne was advancing from the 
north. It was a time of great anxiety with both the friends and 
foes of the revolution, and one which called forth their highest 
exertions. The patriotic militia flocked to the standard of 
.Gates and Stark, while many of the Tories resorted to the quar- 
ters of Burgoyne and Baum. Among the latter was Stedman. 
He had no sooner decided it to be his duty, than he took a kind 
farewell of his wife, a woman of uncommon beauty, gave his 
children, a twin boy and girl, a long embrace, then mounted his 
horse and departed. He joined himself to the unfortunate ex- 
pedition of Baum, and was taken, with other prisoners of war, 
by the victorious Stark. 



FARMER STEDMAN. 211 

" He made no attempt to conceal his name or character, 
which were both soon discovered, and he was accordingly com- 
mitted to prison as a traitor. The jail in which he was confined 
was in the western part of Massachusetts, and nearly in a ruin- 
ous condition. The farmer was one night awakened from his 
sleep by several persons in his room. ' Come,' said they, * you 
can now regain your liberty; we have made a breach in the 
prison, through which you can escape.* To their astonishment 
Stedman utterly refused to leave his prison. In vain they ex- 
postulated with him ; in vain they represented to him that his 
life was at stake. His reply was, that he was a true man, and 
a subject of King George; and that he would not creep out of a 
hole at night, and sneak away from the rebels, to save his neck 
from the gallows. Finding it altogether fruitless to attempt to 
move him, his friends left him, with some expressions of spleen. 

" The time at length arrived for the trial of the prisoner. 
The distance to the place where the court was sitting was about 
sixty miles. Stedman remarked to the sheriff, when he came 
to attend him, that it would save some expense and inconven- 
ience, if he could be permitted to go alone and on foot. ' And 
suppose,' said the sheriff, ' that you should prefer your safety 
to your honor, and leave me to seek you in the British camp ? ' 
I had thought,' said the farmer, reddening with indignation, 
* that I was speaking to one who knew me.' ' I do know you, 
indeed,' said the sherifT; * I spoke but in jest; you shall have 
your way. Go, and on the third day I shall expect to see you 

at S . ' The farmer departed, and at the appointed time, he 

placed himself in the hands of the sheriff. 

** I was now engaged as his counsel. Stedman insisted, be- 
fore the court, upon telling his whole story; and when I would 
have taken advantage of some technical points, he sharply 
rebuked me, and told me he had not employed me to prevari- 
cate, but only to assist him in telling the truth. 



212 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 



" I had never seen such a display of simple integrity. It 
was affecting to witness his love of holy, unvarnished truth, ele- 
vating him above every other consideration, and presiding in his 
breast as a sentiment even superior to the love of life. 

" I saw the tears more than once springing into the eyes of 
his judges. Never before, or since, have I felt such interest in 
a client. I pleaded for him as I would have pleaded for my own 
life. I drew tears, but I could not sway the judgment of stern 

men, controlled 
rather by a 
sense of duty, 
than the com- 
passionate 
promptings of 
humanity. 
Stedman was 
condemned. I 
told him there 
was a chance 
for pardon if 
he would ask 
for it. I drew 

up a petition and requested him to sign it ; but he refused. 
I have done,' said he, ' what I thought my duty. I can ask 
pardon of my God, and my king; but it would be hypocrisy to 
ask forgiveness of these men, for an action I should repeat, were 
I placed in similar circumstances. No! ask me not to sign that 
petition. If what you call the cause of American freedom re- 
quires the blood of an honest man, for a conscientious discharge 
of what he deemed his duty, let me be its victim. Go to my 
judges and tell them that I place not my fears nor my hopes in 
them.* It was in vain that I pressed the subject; and I went 
away in despair. 




THE FARMER GRASPED MY HAND. 



FARMER STEDMAN. 213 

" In returning to my house, I accidentally called on an ac- 
quaintance, a young man of brilliant genius for painting. This 
led him frequently to make excursions into the country, for the 
purpose of sketching such subjects and scenes as were interesting 
to him. From one of these rambles he had just returned. I 
found him sitting at his easel, giving the last touches to a pic- 
ture. He asked my opinion of it. * It is a fine picture,' said 
I ; * is it a fancy piece ? or are they portraits ? ' ' They are por- 
traits,' said he; ' and save perhaps a little embellishment, they 
are, I think, striking portraits of the wife and children of your 
unfortunate client, Stedman. In the course of my rambles, I 

chanced to call at his house in H . I never saw a more 

beautiful group. The mother is one of a thousand; and the 
twins are a pair of cherubs.* 

Tell me,' said I, laying my hand on the picture, * tell me, 
are they true and faithful portraits of the wife and children of 
Stedman ? ' My earnestness made my friend stare. He assured 
me that, so far as might be permitted to judge of his own pro- 
duction, they were striking representations. I asked no further 
questions; I seized the picture, and hurried with it to the prison 
where my client was confined. I found him sitting, his face 
covered with his hands, and apparently wrung by keen emotion. 
I placed the picture in such a position that he could not fail to 
see it. I laid the petition on the little table by his side, and 
left the room. 

" In half an hour I returned. The farmer grasped my hand, 
while tears stole down his cheeks; his eye glanced first upon the 
picture, and then to the petition. He said nothing, but handed 
the latter to me. I took it and left the apartment. He had 
put his name to it. The petition was granted and Stedman was 
set at liberty." 



XXXVl. 
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AND THE GAG LAW. 

John Quincy Adams was one of the great men of our 
nation. He was never a popular man; he had too much strength 
and decision of character for that, but he always acted up to his 
high ideal of what was right, let come what would. After he 
had been President of the United States he was elected a mem- 
ber of Congress and served in the House of Representatives for 
many years. When he was told that Massachusetts would be 
honored to have him represent her in the House, it was sug- 
gested that it would be a degradation for an ex-President to 
accept such a position. " No person could be degraded by 
serving the people as a Representative in Congress," Mr. Adams 
replied; "nor, in my opinion, would an ex-President of the 
United States be degraded by serving as a selectman of his 
town, if elected thereto by the people." He accepted the nom- 
ination, was elected, and as Representative performed the great- 
est work of his life. 

Mr. Adams entered Congress when the struggle between the 
North and the South over the slavery question was beginning. 
Many in the Northern states had for a long time believed that it 
was wrong to keep human beings in bondage. As years went 
by, more and more people adopted this belief, and anti-slavery 
societies were formed in all of the Northern states. The people 
of the South were equally determined not to give up their slaves, 
and they truly thought that work on the plantations could not 
be done successfully without slaves. They insisted that the 
North had no right to meddle in matters that concerned the 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AND THE GAG LAW. 



215 



Southern states only. Naturally a bitter controversy sprang up. 
In the House of Representatives those who sympathized with 
the conditions in the South were in the majority. They were 
influential men, and any one who dared to oppose them needed 
great coolness and courage. 

During the years 1836 and 1837, many petitions were sent 
to Congress upon the 
subject of slavery. Es- 
pecially did the Northern 
people urge that slavery 
should be abolished in 
the District of Columbia 
and in the Territories 
where the government , 
had supreme control. ' 
Most of these petitions . 
were presented to the 
House by Mr. Adams. 
Whether he believed in 
them or not, he always 
read them, because by 
the Constitution the peo- 
ple had the right of peti- 
tion, and hence they had. , 

the right to have their ^ (fVi/yy^ o<\>-i->vvc^ 
appeals read. <^ 

The Southern members believed that Congress had no right 
to regulate slavery. They declared that the House should not 
receive these petitions, and passed an act ordering that all peti- 
tions relating to the subject of slavery should be laid upon the 
table. This resolution was called the ** Gag Law," and, natu- 
rally, the House supposed that it would put an end to these 
petitions. But they continued to come, in even greater num- 




M 



c\/v^^^. 



2l6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

bers than before, and Mr. Adams presented every one. Excit- 
ing scenes followed; the House was continually in an uproar. 
The members shouted and stormed ; they laughed at Mr. Adams; 
they made fun of him ; they called him insane. Once a Repre- 
sentative, frothing at the mouth and with oaths, shrieked at the 
top of his voice, " Sir, this is not to be endured longer." 

"Treason! Treason!" screamed half a dozen members. 
" Expel the old scoundrel. Put him out. Do not let him dis- 
grace the House any longer!" 

Motions were made to expel Mr. Adams, and once he re- 
ceived a letter threatening him with assassination. His old 
associates in the North were opposed to him ; he could hardly 
find a person whom he could call a friend. He was old, and 
lonely, and sad. "It is the experience of all ages," he wrote 
in his diary, " that the people grow weary of old men. To be 
forsaken by all mankind seems to be the destiny that awaits my 
last days." The long struggle cost him deep anxiety and many 
sleepless nights; yet he stood at his post like a good soldier, and 
continued to do what he thought to be his duty, even though it 
made an enemy of every other member of the House. But, in 
fact, he was more than a match for them all. 

''Though aged, he was iron of limb. 

None of the youth could cope with him ; 
. And the foes that he singly kept at bay, 
Outnumbered his thin hairs of silver grey." 

If his foes could taunt him, he could deride them in turn. 
No tongue was so keen and no wit was so quick as his, and his 
long experience in all branches of the work of the government 
made him familiar with every point of law. 

In spite of his annoyances he frequently made for himself a 
good deal of amusement. It must be admitted that he delighted 
to exasperate his opponents and keenly enjoyed their discom- 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AND THE GAG LAW. 21/ 

fiture when they were worsted in the fight. A well-known story- 
illustrates this. One day after reading a long list of petitions, 
he said that he had still another, but he did not know whether 
he ought to present it without the consent of the Speaker of the 
House. The Speaker inquired the character of the petition. 
Mr. Adams said that the petition appeared to corne from twenty- 
two slaves. 

Instantly everyone became attentive. The Southern mem- 
bers grew excited. A petition from slaves! Slaves were not 
persons in the estimation of the South; they had no right to 
make petitions! John Quincy Adams had disgraced himself 
and the House by suggesting that he present a petition from 
slaves asking for the abolition of slavery. 

" Expel him! Expel him!" they cried, and a motion was 
made to censure him. 

When Mr. Adams could make himself heard he ably defended 
himself, saying at the end of his speech that they were mistaken 
in what they supposed to be the contents of the petition, " since 
the prayer was that slavery should not be abolished!" This 
sarcasm did not quiet the feelings of the indignant members, 
but it placed them in a ludicrous position, and the matter was 
dropped. 

The motion to censure Mr. Adams was never taken up, but 
the House by a large majority voted to lay " the whole subject 
on the table, forever." This was really a great victory for Mr. 
Adams, and in his joy he wrote, " Blessed, forever blessed, be 
the name of God ! " 

Mr. Adams' enemies, hating him intensely though they did, 
were forced to admire his courage, honesty, and ability. The 
House was always full when the " Old Man Eloquent " spoke. 
At one time a difficulty arose in electing a Speaker on the open- 
ing of Congress. For three days there seemed to be no way out 
of the dilemma; then Mr. Adams rose and addressed the House. 



2l8 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

A wild storm of applause followed, and the members at once 
voted that he should preside over them until a Speaker could 
be chosen. 

He died in the harness, as was fitting that he should. One 
day he started to rise as the Speaker of the House was about to 
take the vote. "Stop! Stop! Mr. Adams!" somebody called, 
thinking that the old man was going to speak. Instead, he fell 
insensible, and two days later he died. 



i 



XXXVII. 
FRANCIS PARKMAN. 

Over a half century ago a Harvard University sophomore 
made a great resolve ; he would write the story of the struggle 
between the English and the French for the possession of North 
America. If he was to do this well — and it was his nature to 
do everything thoroughly that he undertook- — he must search 
libraries in Europe and America with painstaking care. Thou- 
sands of dusty manuscripts, musty documents, and yellowed 
letters must be overturned. He must acquaint himself with 
Indian life and customs; he must know the forests as well as the 
city streets; he must study men, their deeds, their thoughts. 

Francis Parkman was well fitted to do the work he had under- 
taken. He liked men and he enjoyed the pleasures of social life. 
He sought activity, and was never happier than when tramping 
through the forests or paddling on the streams. He delighted 
in the crack of the rifle and the clash of arms. The wild, rough 
life of the frontiersman appealed to him as strongly as the delib- 
erations in the council chambers of the nations, or the wit and 
small talk of the drawing-room. Twenty years he allowed him- 
self for his work; forty years passed before the last page was 
written. The trials and victories of these years make up our 
story. 

The Indians occupied so prominent a place in this struggle 
between two great nations that Parkman felt that he must thor- 
oughly know their ways. This knowledge could not be found 
in books. Even if it could, Parkman would not have been satis- 
fied to get his knowledge at second-hand. So, with his cousin, 



220 



AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 






he set out for the West soon after beiitg graduated. Railroad, 
steamboat and stage coach were used in the two-weeks' journey 
to St. Louis. Eight days more were taken in reaching Kansas 
City, at that time on the outer edge of civih'zation. Beyond 
was an almost unexplored wilderness. A company of pioneers 
had crossed to Oregon ; a few Spanish settlements were scattered 

over the vast territories of 
California and New Mex- 
ico; here and there could 
be found a small fort or 
trading-post. Otherwise 
the whole region between 
the Missouri River and 
the Pacific Ocean was oc- 
cupied only by the red 
men. They had been un- 
touched by civilization. 
Their thoughts, their cus- 
toms, their life were little 
different from those of 
the Indians who played so 
large a part in the wars a 
hundred years before. 

Parkman joined a party 
of Indians who were going 
beyond the Black Hills to hunt buffaloes. For a whole summer he 
lived their life, slept in their tents, ate their food, endured their 
hardships. Over treacherous paths and through almost impass- 
able forests he rode all day, and at night, tired and exhausted, 
would lie down on damp ground, sometimes without a blanket. 
Such hardships were more than Parkman could endure, accus- 
tomed though he was to violent exercise. Little by little, his 
health broke down; he afterward said: " I was in a tolerably 




FRANCIS PARKMAN. 



FRANCIS PARKMAN. 221 

fair way of atoning for my love of the prairies by resting there 
forever." Frequently in the morning he was lifted into the 
saddle by his guide, and rode, holding fast to the pommel, to 
keep from reeling. 

Parkman outdid even the savage, however, in his ability to 
endure without flinching. It was necessary for him not to show 
his illness, and so well was he able to hide his sufferings that the 
Indians thought him well and strong. Indians have no patience 
with physical weakness, and Parkman knew that the moment 
they saw that he hindered their progress or pleasure, some war- 
rior would turn and bury his tomahawk in his head. To leave 
the party in that rough and almost trackless country, overrun 
by fierce hostile tribes, would also be certain death. So he 
kept on day after day until the hunting excursion was over and 
the party returned. When he reached civilization Parkman had 
a thorough knowledge of all phases of Indian character, but his 
health was gone for life. 

When a boy, Parkman had mapped out his life to be one of 
"action and death in battle." Now everything was changed, 
and he must pass his life shut up in a darkened chamber, at 
times suffering great pain. His whole nature craved activity, 
and this illness was the hardest trial that he could endure. At 
one time while with the Indians he thought, " it is better to die 
here, in the saddle to the last, than to stifle in the hot air of a 
sick chamber; and a thousand times better than to drag out life 
as many have done, in the helpless inaction of lingering dis- 
ease." To become an uncomplaining invalid required a very 
different kind of courage from that which he showed during his 
life with the Indians. It is ever far easier to do brave deeds, 
spurred on by the excitement of danger, the stirring blast of a 
trumpet or the cheers of a crowd, than to be heroic in secret. 
With the sublimest courage Parkman set out to make himself 
over again, to endure idleness in patience and with cheerfulness. 



222 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. 

For years Parkman's eyesight was so poor that he could not 
bear a ray of direct sunlight, and the doctors warned him that 
any mental work would bring on insanity. How under such 
circumstances could he carry out his plans for historical writing? 
If Parkman had followed the doctors' directions not one book 
would have been written; but in this one matter alone here- 
fused to carry out their instructions. 

At times, unable to read a word himself, he would listen 
carefully while some one read to him the documents that trained 
copyists had transcribed in European libraries. With closed eyes 
he would take notes on paper placed in a specially constructed 
frame, having wires stretched across so that the lines of writing 
could be kept straight. Frequently his reader would be only 
a high-school pupil whose pronunciation of French was as trying 
as it was amusing. One short half hour was as long a time as 
it was safe for him to work. Then, perhaps, several days would 
go by before the reading could be repeated. When he began to 
write, six lines a day was the most that he could do. " Under 
the most favorable conditions," as he himself said, ** it was a 
slow and doubtful navigation, beset with reefs and breakers, 
demanding a constant lookout and a constant throwing of the 
lead." 

When Parkman's eyesight improved sufficiently to permit 
him to read, his work was much easier, but even then progress 
was very slow. For five minutes at a time he could use his eyes 
without injury. But five minutes is a small part of twenty-four 
hours, and with a little careful management he discovered that 
by reading one minute and resting one minute he could work a 
half hour, and could repeat this process three or four times 
a day. Thus he labored on, year after year, surmounting ob- 
stacles that would have been complete barriers to success for 
most men. When he could not write history he wrote a novel. 
When he could not write he turned to his garden and became 






FRANCIS PARKMAN. 



223 



SO skilled in raising flowers that he was elected a member of the 
Massachusetts Horticultural Society. 

When he was sixty-five years old he completed " Montcalm 
and Wolfe," the last of the series of eleven volumes of the work 
that he had set for himself forty years before. Nowhere in 
them can any evidence of his illness be found. If one knew 
nothing about the circumstances under which these books were 
written, one would think that they were the work of a strong 
man, full of life and fire. 

Parkman had accomplished his purpose and much more- — he 
had conquered himself. The battle was not won all at once; 
the mastery over self came after many struggles, but victory 
was sure and complete. Who can deny that his heroism was 
greater than that of " the giants " in the world's history? Fran- 
cis Parkman proved the truth of the proverb that " he that 
ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." 



!Vl/»YrA t9U3 



